


Enter the Dance

by AriadneKurosaki



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twelve Dancing Princesses Fusion, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Protective Kurosaki Ichigo, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:34:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26799640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriadneKurosaki/pseuds/AriadneKurosaki
Summary: Twelve sisters wear out their dancing slippers night after night though they are locked together in a room with no dance floor. Their father sets a challenge to any man in his empire: find out how his daughters are wearing out their dancing shoes within three nights, and choose one of them as a bride. Fail, and lose your head.Kurosaki Ichigo, veteran of the border war, wants nothing to do with it - even when he meets the violet-eyed Crown Princess Rukia.
Relationships: Arisawa Tatsuki/Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Ichimaru Gin/Matsumoto Rangiku, Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo, Ulquiorra Cifer/Inoue Orihime
Comments: 66
Kudos: 88





	1. How it Started

**Author's Note:**

> An alternate title: in which Ariadne continues to have no self-restraint and writes a 30K 12 Dancing Princesses AU. This is mostly-done. I hope you enjoy it!

Emperor Yamamoto Genryusai was blessed with twelve daughters. There was the second-oldest, Nanao, whose stern expression and studious nature often hid her charming beauty. There was Rangiku, whose strawberry-blonde hair and curvaceous form were the envy of the court. Orihime, the fourth daughter, looked much like her older sister Rangiku, although her hair was a shade darker and she was known for her shy and somewhat silly, though compassionate, nature. Isane and Kiyone, the fifth and sixth daughters, were known for their gentle natures, although Kiyone was also known for her fights with the chancellor’s son.

Hinamori and Nemu were twins, although Nemu was by far the more solemn of the two. The four younger daughters were no less beautiful than their sisters. Soifon was the most aggressive – although Tatsuki, her elder by one year often gave her fierce competition. Yachiru, the second-youngest daughter, loved candy more than anything and Ururu was so shy that even Hinamori looked like a social butterfly by comparison.

Among her beautiful sisters, Rukia had never felt that she stood out, particularly. Though she was the eldest daughter of the Emperor and the Crown Princess, she was petite and somewhat unassuming. Her dark hair wasn’t as lustrous as her sister Rangiku’s, and her body was not nearly so curvy as some of her sisters. And she was thirty years old and still unmarried. Though in fairness, none of her sisters were married; the Emperor’s exacting standards meant that his ten oldest daughters were exceedingly talented and exceedingly single.

But it was Rukia who found the trap door that led the way to the enchanted world beneath the palace.

It was an accident, really: she tripped on a loose floorboard one afternoon and, curious, pried it up. There was an older panel of wood beneath it, and Rukia pried up the other floorboards covering it, breaking three of her nails in the process. But her work revealed a rectangular panel topped with an iron ring.

“What’s _that_?” Yachiru asked, darting closer to her older sister.

Rukia pursed her lips. “It’s a trap door. I wonder where it leads,” she murmured. She pulled on the ring, but the door stayed stubbornly in place.

“Let me try,” Tatsuki ordered from Rukia’s other side. Rukia waved a hand and stood, giving Tatsuki room. Her younger sister gave the ring several hard pulls and, on the last one, the door flew up as Tatsuki grunted with the effort.

The three sisters gathered around the opening. It was surprisingly large, and light seemed to flow up from the hole beneath, illuminating carved wooden stairs that led downwards. “Where do you think it leads?” Tatsuki asked.

“It must be storage,” Rukia said uncertainly, but then the sound of music drifted up from the so-called storage space.

“Music!” Yachiru chirped, and before either of her sisters could stop her, the young girl scrambled down the stairs.

“I’ll follow her, you stay here,” Rukia ordered, and darted down the stairs before Tatsuki could reply.

Rukia followed her younger sister down the steps, which gradually widened and then transitioned to carved stone instead of wood. She looked up; the ceiling seemed awfully tall as she descended, following Yachiru’s giggles. “This is – under the palace?” she asked with a gasp.

For the world Rukia had stepped into was a very different one than her father’s home. A grove of glittering trees lay before her, and as Rukia drew closer she could see that the leaves on each tree were made of pure silver, though she did not know how such a thing was possible.

Yachiru’s giggling drew her on, and Rukia walked the pathway through the grove of silver. The next grove shined warmly as she entered it, for the leaves of the trees were gold even though they grew out of the tree branches naturally. Rukia reached up to touch one, lightly, and marveled at the feel of the hard leaves.

The third grove she entered was the most spectacular of all, for the trees glittered even more brightly in the unnatural and mysterious light: they were laden with leaves of gemstones of every color. Rukia spotted emerald leaves and diamond flowers, as well as ruby and sapphire fruits. Before her, a short distance away, lay a lake, and twelve small boats lined up along the shore. Yachiru was sitting in one of the little boats, and she waved as she saw Rukia.

“Look over there!” she called as Rukia approached the boats. “There’s a _palace_ under daddy’s palace!” She pointed as Rukia looked, and indeed, there was a beautiful building lit up in celebration across the lakeshore. “Let’s go look at it!”

But Rukia shook her head and said, “We must report this to our father, Yachiru. Come back with me.” And she held out her hand.

“Oh, don’t go so soon. Don’t you want to dance?” a low voice asked.

Rukia turned, suddenly. There was a man standing before her, tall and smiling kindly. His dark brown hair was elegantly brushed back and he wore an elegant white silk kimono embroidered with a geometric pattern. It looked like the kind a man might wear for dancing. “Who are you?” she asked and pulled Yachiru behind her.

He smiled. “I’m a prince, of course.”

And that was how it started.

Kurosaki Ichigo was sick of fighting another man’s war. At thirty years old, he was already a veteran soldier. He’d killed and nearly died for his country. As thanks, he’d been mustered out with the wounded and left to make his way home on foot. Unfortunately, he’d last been home over twelve years ago. He didn’t even know if his father and younger sisters still lived in the capital.

He trudged through lands both bountiful and famine-stricken. The savings from his share of his pay dwindled, and he began taking odd jobs to earn enough to feed himself. Over time, he began to hear a rumor: that the emperor was having problems with his daughters. At first it was just a whisper that some of the young women were being rebellious. As Ichigo drew closer to the capital, the rumors grew more frequent and eventually became fact.

Emperor Yamamoto was offering a princely reward and the hand of one of his daughters to the man who could solve his princess problem. Each night his daughters went – somewhere. And each morning their expensive dancing shoes were found worn through and ruined. His daughters were exhausted, falling asleep in their breakfast. And the women refused to explain what was happening to their slippers or why they were so tired. There was just one catch: the Emperor was growing so enraged by the lack of progress that he was giving each man only three nights to figure out what was going on. And when they didn’t, he had them beheaded.

Desperate for work or not, Ichigo wanted nothing to do with _that_. But when an old woman in a village not far from the main road to the capital asked where he was going, Ichigo said, “I hardly know where I am going, but I am looking for work.”

And the woman said to him, “If you will harvest my rice for me, I will pay you for it.”

That seemed agreeable enough to Ichigo, and he spent three days in the lands behind the village doing as the old woman asked. At the end of the three days, she handed him more coins than he really thought was fair, and a handsome cloak besides. “You might try your hand at solving the Emperor’s princess problem,” she suggested.

Ichigo just scowled and shook his head. “They say the Emperor is killing any man who doesn’t solve the mystery. I’d rather be poor than lose my head,” he told her.

The old woman patted his hand. “The trick is to avoid drinking anything that the princesses give you. And you’ll find that cloak will hide you from prying eyes. But good luck to you, whatever you pursue, Kurosaki Ichigo,” she replied, and sent him on his way.

Ichigo entered the capital city a few days later and walked to the palace. But rather than presenting himself to the Emperor, he went instead to the guards’ barracks and was directed to the sergeant at arms, a tall, redheaded man with abundant tattoos.

“I am a veteran of the border war,” he explained. “And I am seeking work as a guard.”

The redhead looked him up and down, nodding briefly. “Could always use another guard,” he said agreeably enough. “Show me your skills with a sword, stranger, and I’ll see if there’s a job for you.”

Ichigo set down his pack and removed his cloak. Then he unbuckled his belt and set it, and his sheathed daito, upon his cloak. At the sergeant at arms’ gesture he followed the taller man into a salle, and they selected practice swords – pot metal with dull edges – for their bout.

Although Ichigo had not lifted a sword in weeks he had lost little of his edge. The two men battled across the packed dirt of the salle, trading blows first slowly and then more quickly. Soon a small audience had gathered, and when Ichigo’s blade found the sergeant’s neck and touched, ever so lightly, a light smattering of applause filled the area.

“You’re hired,” the redhead told him. “Haven’t had a good bout like that in a month.” He didn’t seem angry that Ichigo had beat him – which was something of a relief, as Ichigo was down to his last few coins. “Name’s Sergeant Abarai Renji.”

“Kurosaki Ichigo.” They shook hands and left the salle.

Ichigo glanced at the audience they’d drawn and dismissed them in the same breath until his amber eyes met a pair the color of violets. He stopped dead, staring at the girl – no, woman – who was leaning against the fence. She was petite, at least a head shorter than he was, and she wore a plum-colored kimono embroidered with white flowers, which seemed awfully fancy for watching a spar. Her night-dark hair hung down her back freely and a simple coronet graced her brow. The look in her eyes was haunting: beautiful but ineffably sad. And there were shadows beneath them, as if she was exhausted.

“Oi, Kurosaki. You still want that job?” Renji called, and Ichigo shook himself, hurrying after his new boss.

“Who’s the woman in purple?” he asked when he caught up.

Renji scowled. “That’s the crown princess,” he said, and glanced at Ichigo. “Put her out of your head. Only way you’re getting near _her_ is if you agree to the Emperor’s trial. And that’d be a waste of your life.”

“So the Emperor does have the men killed for their failure,” Ichigo said quietly.

“Hn. My men have dug fifty graves,” Renji confirmed. “It’s been going on nearly a year.”

Ichigo shuddered, and resolved not to think about the crown princess, or the Emperor’s predicament, any further.

That worked for a time, as Ichigo signed on formally as a guard and made his new ‘home’ in the barracks. He received new uniforms and three meals a day, as well as enough pay in coin that he could begin to save for some nebulous future.

The first body he buried was that of an old man, and though it was sad, Ichigo told himself that the men knew going in that they were risking their lives. He didn’t draw the short straw and get assigned burial duty again for another three weeks.

“You, guard,” was the first thing the crown princess said to him as Ichigo was walking back toward the barracks after a training session with some of the younger guards. Renji had recognized his skills as a veteran soldier and quickly put him to work training the greenhorns – boys barely free of their mothers’ apron strings who barely knew which end of a sword they should wield.

“Your highness,” he responded, and bowed to her.

“I require an escort into the city. You will provide it to me,” she ordered. There was a large bag slung over one arm.

Ichigo blinked at her. “Ah – are you permitted to go into the city, highness?” he asked cautiously. He didn’t want _his_ head on the chopping block because a princess wanted to sneak out.

The woman sniffed contemptuously. “Of course. My father is concerned with my _clothing budget_ , not my person.”

Ichigo scowled. That sounded unlikely to him – but she was the princess, after all. So he just nodded to her. “Let me change and retrieve my sword, highness.”

“Be quick,” she ordered.

Ichigo frowned at how terse her words were, but he nodded and walked into the building. He was back in a few minutes wearing a fresh black kimono and hakama, as well as the dark green jinbaori of his guard’s uniform. His sword, Zangetsu, was strapped to his waist. The embroidery on his jinbaori showed that he was a member of the guard and permitted to walk through the city without a peace knot on his blade.

“Good. Try to keep up,” she said, and hurried toward the palace gates. Ichigo’s far longer legs caught up to her quickly and he glanced down at her.

“I wouldn’t be a very good guard if I let you lose me,” he pointed out. She just shrugged and walked through the open gates with him following a step behind.

For her excursion into the city she’d dressed far more casually than she had done the first time he saw her: the woman’s kimono was long and black, with modest lavender embroidery along the cuffs and neckline. The obi wrapped around her waist was lavender-hued was well but plain, and so was the obijime holding it around her waist. Her hair was pulled into a simple bun, and she wore no jewelry, not even the coronet. Ichigo supposed that made sense: she was far less conspicuous this way, and theoretically easier to protect.

He kept a sharp eye out for anyone who might wish to harm her, but the woman seemed totally unconcerned. He followed her along paved streets through the nobles’ quarter, where oversized townhomes held the richest citizens of the empire. They turned through the shopping district, which the princess ignored, and then toward one of the poorer sections of town.

“Ah – your…”

“Rukia,” she said, and stopped so abruptly that he nearly ran into her. “My name is Rukia.”

Ichigo cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced around them. Here, the houses were more run-down. Cracks ran through painted walls, the road was developing its own cracks through uneven cobblestones, and one or two of the buildings looked like they should be condemned. “This place looks…a little dangerous.”

Rukia just sniffed and waved a hand at him imperiously. “It is safe enough.” She turned left abruptly and walked up a narrow path to a large house with white plaster walls.

Ichigo followed, one hand on the hilt of his sword suspiciously, but when the door opened his jaw dropped open.

“Rukia, you’re here! The children will be so pleased, they were starting to get worried after all the rumors started,” a young woman in a simple blue kimono explained. Her light brown hair was pulled into a loose bun and a few tendrils were escaping their binding. She looked up, past the princess, and stared. “ _Ichigo?_ ”

He took a slow step forward as Rukia looked at him curiously. “Do you know this woman?” she asked.

“ _Yuzu_?” he asked, and the young woman in front of him beamed. Ichigo’s feet took him the few steps to the doorway and he grabbed her in a tight hug. Her arms came up around his waist as they held one another tightly. After a long moment Ichigo pulled away, and he turned to look at Rukia.

There was a strange expression on the princess’ face; it almost looked like _jealousy_ – which was such a ridiculous thought that Ichigo pushed it from his head immediately. “Yuzu is my younger sister,” he explained. “I haven’t seen my family since I was sent to the front over twelve years ago.”

Rukia’s expression softened immediately, and her lips curved into a smile that sent a sudden frisson through Ichigo’s body. “I hadn’t realized I was arranging a family reunion,” she said.

He couldn’t help his echoing smile. But then he looked around again: at Yuzu, then at the large house. “What is this place? Do you live here? Where are Karin and Dad?”

Yuzu smiled gently. “Karin and Dad are probably at home. _This_ is a home for orphans, and I work here,” she explained. “Cr—Rukia brings gifts and clothes for the children from time to time.”

The woman in question pulled the large bag from her shoulder and offered it to Yuzu. “Ururu’s grown out of her kimonos again, and Yachiru’s shoes are too tight,” Rukia said as Yuzu took the bag from her.

“Thank you, Rukia!” Yuzu said and beamed at her. “Please thank them for me. The shoes especially are helpful, we’re always short of those. Oh! Would you like to come in? The children love your visits.”

But Rukia turned away, a smile on her face. “Perhaps next time, Yuzu. I’d better be heading back.”

Ichigo ruffled Yuzu’s hair lightly, and smirked when she pouted at him. “Are you still living by the merchants’ quarter?” he asked. “I’ll come visit when I can get a day off.”

“Aa. No, we’ve moved much closer to the canal, in the short blue house. Come visit soon, Ichigo. We’ve missed you.” Yuzu snuck another hug before Ichigo followed Rukia.

When he caught up to her, the petite princess was walking swiftly back to the palace using the same route they’d taken to get to the orphanage. “Thank you,” he said quietly when his strides were matching hers.

“For what?” Her violet eyes looked up at him, and Ichigo tamped down the odd feeling that curled inside of him.

“If you hadn’t needed an escort today, I wouldn’t have seen my sister,” Ichigo explained. “I couldn’t find my family in the merchants’ quarter and their neighbors didn’t know where they’d gone.”

A delicate smile curved the princess’ lips, but she said nothing. They walked in silence for a time, through the bustling streets of the markets and then a quieter, residential area.

He sensed it before he heard it; the sound of an errant pebble kicked by a shoe and the shuffling of bodies to get closer to them. Ichigo straightened and his hand found the hilt of Zangetsu. “Rukia,” he said very quietly, and the princess straightened up.

“I know,” she said, and though it startled him that she had noticed they were being followed, Ichigo pushed that aside in favor of falling one step behind her. The steps grew louder, and he turned.

There were three thugs behind him: better dressed than he expected and wearing swords that weren’t peace-bound. “What do you want?” Ichigo asked and looked them up and down.

“Hn. Just whatever money’s in your pockets. And her, of course,” the tallest one said. His movements were surprisingly lithe as he stepped closer. He wore no jinbaori, but his dark gray monpe and kimono were in good repair and fit him well.

Rukia snorted beside him but said nothing.

“Che. Don’t be ridiculous,” Ichigo said, and tightened his grip on his sword. “You haven’t done anything you’ll regret yet – better leave before you do.”

“One man against three,” the tallest one drawled again. He had dishwater blond hair and a sneer on his face. “And you’re _old_.”

This time it was Ichigo who snorted, and he drew Zangetsu. “Don’t be stupid,” he warned, and angled his body so that Rukia was behind him.

The princess had her own ideas, however: a small steel throwing dagger appeared in her hands and she glanced up at him. “I can hit him from here,” she suggested.

The idea of the princess fighting was a shock. She was so tiny, after all. But Ichigo wasn’t about to question having an ally, armed and hopefully deadly, at his back. “That takes skill,” he acknowledged.

“I’m quite good,” Rukia agreed.

The thugs were staring at them. “Hey. Didn’t you hear what I said? What are you going to do with that little needle, midget?”

Ichigo winced; he could feel Rukia’s irritation radiating off of her. “Please don’t throw that just yet,” he requested. “Sergeant Abarai told me there’s less paperwork if someone else attacks first.” He raised his voice and said, “This isn’t going to end the way you think it will.”

But the lead thug just gestured and the other two closed in, circling Rukia and Ichigo. The soldier turned guard rolled his eyes and shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. The one closest to him unsheathed a short sword, and it was much _poorer_ quality than he expected: no more than pot metal, like the dull blades that the newest recruits used for training.

It was the thug on Rukia’s side who attacked first, however, with a long dagger that aimed for Ichigo first. He brought up his blade to block, and shoved the man out of the way with the flat of his sword. A dagger – even a long one – was no match for Zangetsu, and in three blows Ichigo had him on the ground clutching a gut wound.

The second thug came at him with his short sword, and Ichigo exchanged several blows with him. He was a better fighter than the first, but he was a squat man whose arms strained as Ichigo’s blade met his. “You should take your friend and go,” he advised. “You might be able to save him.”

“Fuck you,” was the only reply he got, and Ichigo scoffed. His blade swung again, and this time when it hit the inferior blade the week steel sheared in half, leaving his enemy gaping at the hilt and six inches of jagged metal in his hand. Ichigo’s next slash caught the man in the chest, and he staggered back and fell, blood darkening his tunic. He turned and spotted the third attacker lunging for him, but he stopped, suddenly, and a breath huffed out of him. He fell as Ichigo watched, Rukia’s dagger in his back.

Ichigo lowered his blade a fraction. “Well done, your highness.” He pulled the dagger from the man’s back and wiped the blood off on his tunic, then rolled the man over. “You still alive?” he asked, but there was no response. Ichigo offered the dagger back to Rukia hilt first. “We need to get back to the palace and report this,” he said to her.

Their fingers brushed as Rukia took the dagger from his, and another frisson worked its way up his spine. But Rukia looked peaky all of a sudden, and she staggered back from the man she’d stabbed.

“Alright, alright,” Ichigo said, and though she was a _princess_ , he stepped closer to her and got his hand beneath her forearm. “Deep breaths, princess. You’re fine.”

She pulled her arm from his grasp and stumbled away, only to retch onto the exquisite lawn of the nearest townhome. Ichigo hurriedly sheathed his blade, caught up with her easily and held her hair back from her head with one hand as she gagged, while the other rubbed soothing circles on her back. When she was done, he helped her straighten up and wordlessly handed her a clean cloth from his pocket. “Wipe your forehead and mouth,” he advised gently.

Rukia did as he told her. “I – I haven’t actually killed anyone before,” she managed, and Ichigo just nodded.

“I figured. We should get back to the palace – I need to report this.” He eyed her carefully and ordered, “Take another deep breath.”

She did that, too, and then shook herself. It was as if a veil fell over her eyes, and Rukia straightened to her full – though still petite – height. “Thank you, Ichigo,” she said. “I’m fine now.”

Ichigo scowled – she didn’t look fine – but he nodded briefly. “Good.” When she started walking back toward the palace he followed, and if she noticed that he used his body to block the sight of the man she’d stabbed, Rukia didn’t say anything.

When they reached the side gate, Ichigo held the small iron barrier open for her. “I’ll speak with Sergeant Abarai.” As Rukia nodded and began to hurry away, he added, “Thank you, Rukia.”

The words stopped her. Her violet eyes met his, and they looked at one another for a long moment before Rukia turned away again.

Ichigo sighed and went off to find his boss. And that was how _that_ began.


	2. Under the Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia and her sisters wear out their slippers. Ichigo finds himself unwillingly intrigued.

Rukia was panting by the time she reached the massive bedroom she shared with her eleven sisters. Her father, angered by the mystery of his daughters’ nighttime activities, had converted the largest of their bedrooms into a shared space for them all. Unfortunately for him – the trap door was in that room.

“Rukia! What’s the matter?” Rangiku asked from where she was lounging on a plush, silky futon. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. And is that _blood_ on your hands?”

Rukia took a deep breath but her hands began to shake before she could say anything. She sank into a low armchair as Rangiku and Nanao hurried over to her, the latter’s eyes glinting seriously behind her spectacles. “I went to the orphanage this afternoon,” she explained haltingly. “I’ve never needed more than a single guard. But we were attacked on the way back to the palace.”

Rangiku and Nanao exchanged a look over her head. “Were you injured? Was the guard injured?” Nanao asked solemnly.

She shook her head quickly. “No – no, I’m fine. Ichigo is fine.” At the use of the guard’s first name her younger sisters exchanged another look. “But I – I stabbed one of the people who attacked us, and killed him.” Rukia swallowed heavily as her stomach churned again.

“Good,” Rangiku said severely, and when Rukia stared up at her, she said, “You were being attacked. You didn’t learn how to use those little daggers of yours just to look pretty.”

Rukia swayed in the chair, and Nanao frowned at her. “You need a bath, a nap, and something to eat, in that order,” she said severely. “I’ll summon one of our maids to draw a bath for you. Just sit there and breathe deeply.”

“Ah – that’s what he said to do. Ichigo, I mean,” Rukia murmured.

“Is this _Ichigo_ a handsome man?” Rangiku asked teasingly. When Rukia glowered at her she just laughed and said, “You usually don’t bother to learn the names of the guards.”

“He has hair like a…a flame,” Rukia finally told her, as heat crept into her cheeks.

“Hmmm, I’ll be sure to look for him,” Rangiku said, and laughed again at Rukia’s expression.

It didn’t take long for a maid to escort Rukia to the bathing room near the princess’ bedroom. Cisterns provided running water and a fire stoked by the maid heated the water flowing into the ofuro. Rukia scrubbed herself so thoroughly that her skin was pink and nearly raw, especially around her hands, and then sunk herself into the ofuro up to her neck. The water was almost _too_ hot, but she stayed under until water began to cool and her fingers and toes were wrinkled.

Between the loss of adrenaline and the hot bath, Rukia was stumbling with fatigue when the maid helped her into a yukata, and she practically crawled onto her futon. Then she slept, expecting that her dreams would be full of blood. Instead, they were full of amber-brown eyes and flame-bright hair.

When she woke, it was to the bustling of her sisters around her. Rangiku grinned when she saw her and pulled the blankets from Rukia’s hands. “Get ready,” she ordered. “It’s nearly time.”

Rukia sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Rangiku and Nanao were already dressed in elegant gowns of pale pink and aquamarine silk. Sui-Feng was half-dressed in bright yellow and chasing Yachiru around the room to put up the younger girl’s hair. Rukia shook her head and stood, then rolled her futon to get it out of the way. She pulled an elegant, shimmering lavender gown from their shared wardrobe. Her slippers were white silk and she hurried to pull her gown on before she pulled the slippers onto her small feet.

“Here, I’ll fix your hair,” Orihime volunteered softly. She looked lovely as always in an ice-blue gown that showed off her generous bosom. A silk belt woven with floral patterns wrapped around her waist and the chiffon of her skirt swished enchantingly around her legs. Elegant, sheer sleeves in a blue so pale it was almost white draped around her arms, and silver embroidery sparkled throughout the fabric. Her auburn hair was done up in a series of soft curls, and snowflake-shaped pins sparkled in her hair.

“Thank you,” Rukia murmured, and leaned back so that Orihime could begin to pin up her hair. Rukia’s dark hair was so long it reached the small of her back, although a lock consistently fell into her face, between her eyes. Orihime worked quickly to bring it up into a soft bun that allowed locks of hair to drift down in front, framing her face.

Rukia was the last to be ready, but it was she who moved to the hidden trap door as if compelled. The faces of her sisters were expectant; they held their breaths as Rukia pried up the wood panels and Tatsuki, elegant in a close-cut dress of navy blue, lifted the heavy door that lay beneath. Rukia stepped down into the underground world first, and her sisters followed in a long trail of silk dresses and sparkling hair ornaments.

Yachiru and Ururu were last, and they followed silently behind their older sisters. Rukia led them through the grove of silver trees, dresses whispering in an unseen breeze. They passed through the golden trees and then the trees of gemstones, leaves clicking oddly in the air. Finally, they arrived at the shore of the lake, where twelve small boats waited. A man stood beside each of the boats; each one was as different as the last, though they all wore elegant white kimonos and hakama belted with black obi and decorated with geometric embroidery.

Rukia stepped into first boat and sat carefully on the bench. Her escort for the evening stepped in after her and pushed off with a long oar. He was tall and well-built, with wavy brown hair. One lock of hair fell into his eyes. “Are you well this evening, Princess?” he asked in that deep voice of his.

She’d grown to hate that voice, though she smiled outwardly and said, “Yes, I am well, Prince Sosuke. I am looking forward to dancing.”

Behind them the other boats followed. For months they had each been paired with the same man: Rangiku was paired with the tall, fox-faced man named Gin, and Nanao with a gangly, tall man named Nnoitra who always seemed borderline contemptuous of her sisters. Orihime sat in the boat of an extraordinarily solemn man named Ulquiorra who nevertheless seemed to dote on her. On it went: Isane with a prince named Coyote and Kiyone with a blond man named Findorr; Tatsuki with a tall, blue-haired man named Grimmjow. Sui-Feng was paired with a man named Tousen who did not see but guided his boat unerringly despite that.

Hinamori partnered with a young blond man named Tesla, Nemu was paired with a tousled man named Ggio. Yachiru and Ururu were both in boats with redheaded boys close to their age, Menis and Jinta. Rukia could never remember which was which.

The palace came into view, once again lit up as though for a celebration. The boat Rukia was in docked first, and Sosuke stepped onto the stone platform. His hand reached out but Rukia stood and climbed out of the boat on her own. The other boats docked one by one, and the princes helped their companions out of the little boats.

Rukia watched quietly as it happened. Rangiku seemed to genuinely enjoy her time with Gin, and they were well-matched in their dancing. Orihime, likewise, seemed entranced by her prince. Yachiru just wanted to have fun, young as she was, and she and Ururu always spent more time playing tag with their princes than dancing.

Finally, Rukia had to place her hand on Sosuke’s arm so that he could escort her inside. Her sisters fell in line behind her and they walked into the brightly lit palace slowly. Music wafted from the ballroom as they walked in.

The ballroom itself, as always, took Rukia’s breath away. She’d seen it every night for nearly a year, but it was still even more elegant than the ballroom in her father’s palace. The elaborately carved ceiling loomed twenty feet overhead and the walls were covered alternately in gilt and tall, painted silk panels of flowers and birds. The floor was made of some unknown material that looked like gold but felt like wood under her feet as she danced.

When all twelve of the princesses were in the ballroom, Sosuke raised a hand and the music stopped. He lowered it, and a waltz began. Quickly he pulled her onto the floor and the other pairs followed, sweeping into the first dance of the night. It would be the first of many: often the dancing did not stop until three or even four in the morning.

Rukia knew the steps to this dance by heart, and she let her mind wander even as her feet followed Sosuke’s. She couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d done: how she’d stabbed someone without even thinking about it at the first sign that a trained guard – and a veteran of war – was in danger. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way _Ichigo_ had fought, and the way he had been so happy, so _soft_ when she’d inadvertently reunited him with his younger sister.

She certainly couldn’t explain the little jolt of upset she’d felt just before Ichigo had explained that Yuzu was his sister.

“You seem distracted this evening, your highness,” Sosuke said suddenly as he spun her. His brown eyes bored into hers and Rukia glanced away, watching Orihime dancing with Ulquiorra. Her younger sister was chattering away, a beaming smile on her face. “Rukia?”

She drew her attention back to her dance partner. “I had a more exciting day than usual,” she said mildly. “Someone tried to rob me.”

Those eyes widened in sympathy, but as always there was something behind them that gave Rukia a chill. “How awful,” Sosuke said gently. “I’m glad you weren’t injured.”

She still had no idea how it was possible that an entire world lay beneath her father’s palace and the capital city without anyone knowing; it was magic, she was sure of that much. Nor could she stop dancing. Even as the music came to a stop and she curtsied to her brunet partner, she walked away only to find another: Grimmjow this time, his face set in a scowl not entirely dissimilar to Ichigo’s. _Put that guard out of your mind, you little fool_ , she told herself, and curtsied to the blue-haired man before her.

“Princess,” he drawled in greeting, and swept her into the dance as the music began again at a faster tempo. Yachiru ran by, chasing Ururu and nearly knocking Rukia over on the way. Grimmjow just rolled his eyes as the redheaded boys chased after them both.

The night went on like that: Rukia changed partners several times throughout the night, even dancing with the pale, dark-haired Ulquiorra. She was so petite that nearly every prince was taller than her. Though she’d slept for a few hours that afternoon Rukia grew tired as the night wore on, and frequently had to stifle her yawns. There was a banquet laid out against one wall and wine seemed to appear out of nowhere, but Rukia’s stomach churned at the thought of eating or drinking anything.

Finally, the music stopped. Rukia stepped away from Sosuke, whom she’d partnered for the last dance, and curtsied politely. They enacted the final part of what had become nearly a ritual over the last months: the princes led Rukia and her sisters back to the boats and rowed them back across the lake. When the boats reached the opposite shore Rukia and her sisters bid goodnight to their dancing partners. Exhausted as she was, she still noticed that Rangiku and Orihime gave particularly affectionate goodbyes to their princes.

They trailed back through the groves of jeweled, gold, and silver trees, and up the steps to the open trap door. Tatsuki shut the door with a low thud when they were all through, and together she and Rukia replaced the wooden panels that hid the trap door.

Yachiru and Ururu sprawled on their futons with twin groans, but Tatsuki chivvied them up with an urgent, “You need to change out of those clothes.” Around the room, the twelve dancing princesses pulled their slippers from their feet and changed into their nightclothes.

Rukia examined the soles of her slippers; they might last another night, but no more than that. She changed out of her lavender gown and put it away. Her eyes met Nanao’s across the room and she jerked her head lightly toward the bathing room. “This has to stop,” she said quietly when they were behind the closed door.

Nanao just shook her head. “That’s what you said three weeks ago,” she reminded her oldest sister. “But tomorrow night it will be the same.”

Rukia bit her lower lip. “I know,” she whispered.

Ichigo was being watched. Not by the younger guards – he knew they were watching him, observing the way he sparred with one of their number in a demonstration match of hand to hand fighting. No, he was being watched by three of the princesses. That’s who he thought they were, at least: they wore kimonos far too expensive-looking for most women to afford. The tallest one, an extremely busty woman with strawberry-blonde hair, was leaning on her forearms as she pressed against the fence. The other two were a little shorter and looked very different; one was auburn-haired and just as busty as her older sister, while the other was dark-haired and looked studious in her spectacles, almost like Rukia without those incredible amethyst eyes. All three seemed exhausted.

 _Since when do you think anyone’s eyes are incredible?_ Ichigo asked himself and changed his stance to block an attack from his opponent. His retaliating blow sent the younger man sprawling several feet away on his back, and Ichigo scowled.

“Do you see the flaw in Koroku’s defense?” he asked as he walked over and held out a hand to help the scrawny man up.

“Ah – he should have dodged or used your weight against you,” one of the other guards said.

Ichigo nodded shortly. “Exactly.” He held a hand out and gestured the speaker forward. “Your turn – show me what you would have done differently.”

When Ichigo turned again, Rukia was there, watching silently. He nearly lost his footing when he caught her amethyst eyes watching him and she _blushed_. Or maybe it was because of the heat – it was a warm day, after all. His shirt was soaked through with sweat and sticking to him, and after he sent the next recruit sprawling, he called a halt so that he could strip the shirt off and hang it on the fence. It left him bare to the waist, and Ichigo waited as a few of the other men did the same.

There was giggling from the other side of the fence, and Ichigo sighed as several of the men turned their attention toward the sound. “Don’t pay attention to them,” he ordered. “Unless you want to chop wood for the next three days.”

“Sir!” There was a note of protest in the tone of a few of the men, but Ichigo ignored them. He shook his hair out of his face and ordered them to pair off. And if in the very back of his head he wondered why the crown princess was watching again and whether it was just that she didn’t have anything better to do, well – that was his own business.

Still, he felt her eyes on him for the next hour. When the sun was at its zenith he called a halt to training. “Walk, don’t run back to the barracks,” he ordered. “And drink a full canteen of water, each of you. Slowly.” Ichigo walked to the fence and picked his shirt back up. The usual spectators were drifting away, but Rukia and the strawberry-blonde princess were still there. And they were _both_ staring at him.

“Did you come down to train, your highnesses?” he asked roughly when the blonde pulled her sister closer to him.

“Oh, not me. But _Rukia_ could use a lesson,” she said, grinning.

Rukia’s cheeks immediately flushed hotly and Ichigo could feel his cheeks doing the same. Which was ridiculous – he was thirty, after all. “What Princess Rangiku _means_ to say is that I need an escort again.” The words were a little strained, Ichigo thought.

“I need to wash up, but then I’d be happy to escort you,” Ichigo said, although he could hardly believe the words had come out of his mouth.

Both women blushed then, but Rangiku recovered faster, and she fanned herself with one hand as she grinned at him. “She’ll wait.”

Ichigo ducked his head in an abbreviated bow to hide another blush, and walked off toward the barracks. They were still watching him, he could tell. “No wonder you were talking about him,” he heard as he walked away. “He’s _very_ attractive. Much more attractive than…well, you know.”

Ichigo didn’t know what the last part of that meant, but he covered his face with one hand as he hurried away. When he left the barracks again, bathed and wearing a fresh uniform, he stopped in to see Renji. “The Crown Princess has requested that I escort her into the city,” he told the sergeant.

“Hn. Try not to be late for evening training,” was all the crimson-haired man said.

Rukia was waiting for him at the gate, her finery intact but coronet missing. “We’re going to the shopping district today,” she told him, and Ichigo blinked down at her, but held the side gate open so that she could go ahead of him.

“I thought merchants came to the palace with their goods,” he said when they were away from the gate and walking west from the palace.

“They do,” Rukia acknowledged.

“So then this trip is for…?”

“For the Crown Princess, whom you serve,” she retorted. The words coming from someone as short as her made Ichigo laugh out loud. He half expected her to smack him; he didn’t expect her to kick him in the shin, and he hopped away from her, grunting in pain.

“I serve the Emperor,” Ichigo reminded her as he rubbed his shin. “And I’m not going to drag you back into the palace, little princess. I’m just curious.” _About you_ , he finished silently.

Somewhat mollified, Rukia started walking again. “Ribbons and a few other things. I don’t need enough to justify asking someone taking a full day from their business just so I can da—to sell me a meter of ribbon.”

Ichigo blinked at the slip but hurried to keep pace with her. “I see,” he said. He didn’t, but suddenly he wanted to know about the princesses’ secret as much as the emperor did.

When they reached the shopping district it was bustling and loud, and Ichigo hovered close to Rukia as she went first to one stall and then into a shop filled with a thousand spools of ribbons in every color Ichigo had ever heard of, and quite a few he hadn’t. He watched, hands clasped behind his back as Rukia selected ribbon in a dozen different colors. She bought only a meter or so of each color and Ichigo wondered what she could want with such small amounts.

Finally, coin exchanged hands and he led her from the shop, keeping close to her. They stopped at a stall for hair pins, and then Rukia stopped at the leather worker’s stall. Ichigo put a hand to his nose to keep out the smell, but he watched suspiciously as Rukia paid for a length of very thin, supple leather.

There were two more stops, and the sun was just beginning to lower in the sky as they turned back toward the palace. He carried a large bag in his off hand. Ichigo waited until there were very few people around them before he said quietly, “You’re trying to repair your dancing slippers, aren’t you.”

But rather than answer him directly, Rukia stopped dead and her eyes looked up into his. “ _Don’t_ ,” she whispered. “Don’t ask questions like that.” There was a note of desperation in her tone, and Ichigo’s brow furrowed as he heard it.

“But Rukia—”

“You _can’t_.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t get upset,” Ichigo drawled. “It was just a question. I didn’t think a princess would be good at repairing things,” he added, and tried to inject a note of teasing into his voice.

It worked – sort of. Rukia’s face lost some of its strain and she smirked up at him. “My sisters and I are multitalented,” she assured him. “Have you visited your family?” she asked, transparently changing the subject.

“Hn. Tomorrow afternoon,” Ichigo affirmed. “I have the day off. We’re supposed to have dinner together.”

“Your parents must have missed you. Did you really not see them for ten years?” Rukia asked.

Ichigo rubbed awkwardly at his chest. “Mom’s been gone for twenty years, but yeah – I haven’t seen my father or sisters since I was conscripted.”

Rukia ducked her head and said quietly, “My mother’s been gone for a very long time as well.”

The hand holding her bag drifted over and bumped against the back of hers lightly. “I thought you had eleven sisters?”

“I do. Nanao and I are full sisters. Everyone else is a half-sister. Don’t you know that the Emperor has been married five times?”

Ichigo blinked. “Ah – no. I didn’t realize it was that many,” he admitted. “So wait – how old is your youngest sister?”

They turned into the nobles’ quarter, the palace not far into the distance, as Rukia answered, “Yachiru is twelve and Ururu is nine. When Ururu’s mother died the Emperor decided that he’d had enough wives and enough daughters. He was trying to have a son.”

Ichigo sniffed. “Should have been happy with daughters,” he grumbled quietly, and caught the quick grin on Rukia’s lips.

“There have been wise men who told the Emperor he would not have a son,” Rukia admitted. “One lost his head for it, but the other told him that when Ururu’s mother passed and my father was more…willing to listen. He suggested that my father might turn his attention to marrying us off.”

Ichigo snorted. “But he hasn’t, has he?”

“No, now he holds us out as prizes if someone can – well, you’ve heard the rumors,” Rukia finished.

“Why don’t you just say it out loud?” Ichigo asked. He stopped and turned to look at her, and every hair on the back of his neck stood on end. “I’ve buried two men because of whatever is going on and I’ve only been here a month. So why don’t you just say it?”

But Rukia’s eyes filled as they looked into his, before she took off, running back toward the palace. He heaved a sigh and followed, using his much longer legs to catch up to her easily. “Stop it, little princess,” he said, and grabbed her arm gently to stop her from running off a second time.

“You keep – you keep asking _questions_ ,” Rukia said, and again there was a tone of desperation in her voice. Once again Ichigo felt – something – _off_ and wrong about the situation. She didn’t sound like a bored woman rebelling against her father. She sounded – scared. Even terrified.

“I won’t ask any more questions today,” he promised, as his eyes met hers. “And I’m sorry for upsetting you. But it’s my job to protect you, remember? I can’t do that if you rush off.”

She stared at him for a long moment, before nodding briefly and turning back toward the palace. She didn’t shake off his hand, which Ichigo counted as a good thing. They walked the rest of the way to the palace gate in silence, and Ichigo handed Rukia’s bag of purchases to her before bowing to her. She walked away, but looked back over her shoulder at him – twice. Ichigo shook his head and walked into Renji’s office again.

“Nearly late,” the redhead told him, and Ichigo scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“Sorry. Her Highness took a long time deciding what ribbons and hairpins she wanted,” Ichigo rumbled. But he was distracted during evening training and one of the newest recruits nearly got the best of him.


	3. In Gardens and Dress Shops

“Ridiculous,” Rangiku moaned dramatically as she grabbed Rukia’s arm and dragged her from their shared bedroom. “A guard everywhere we go? Bad enough we’re all locked in together at night, now we’re being followed around even in the palace?” Her voice took on a whine as a dark-haired guard fell in behind them.

“It’s not ideal,” Rukia agreed far more calmly, before yelping as Rangiku sped down the hallway with her in tow. “Where are we going anyway?”

“ _I_ am going to watch the guard practice. And _you_ …” Her sister brightened up suddenly. “ _You_ are coming with me, so you can spend more time outside.”

Rukia blinked up at her suspiciously, but Rangiku was half again her height and weighed more than she did. And being outside didn’t sound so bad.

When they arrived at the practice salle and Ichigo was leaning against the fence as he called out orders to the group of twenty men he was training, however, Rukia’s cheeks flushed brightly. “You’re making me look like – like some kind of _stalker_ ,” she hissed at her younger sister. But Rangiku just laughed.

“Please. _I_ see the way he looks at you,” she whispered. “ _And_ the way he’s always available and willing when you need an escort into the city.”

Ichigo shouted something vulgar at the men in the salle, an expression of disgust on his face, and ordered, “Run ten laps around the salle, double time. And next time, don’t stay up half the night drinking!” Then he turned, and his eyes met Rukia’s. Under the sunlight they were lighter, almost honey-colored. His cheeks, on the other hand, immediately turned red. “My apologies, your highnesses,” he mumbled. “I didn’t realize there were ladies here.”

Rukia rolled her eyes at him suddenly. “It’s not as if we haven’t heard worse,” she said. “My ears won’t burn off just because I heard you compare your men to donkeys.”

The words brought a smirk to Ichigo’s face and he glanced toward the pack of trainees running on the far side of the rectangular space. “I suppose not. Running out of things to do in the palace again?” he asked.

“We’re being followed by guards _everywhere_ ,” Rangiku whined, lips pouting so dramatically that even Rukia rolled her eyes a little. “Father says we can’t be left alone _anywhere_ except our bedroom.”

“I’d heard that,” Ichigo acknowledged, and glanced at Rukia. “Are you unhappy with the guards assigned to you? Sergeant Abarai picked some of his best men.”

“You weren’t assigned,” Rukia said quietly, and felt her cheeks heat.

“Hn. I was, actually,” Ichigo said mildly. “Abarai assigned me as your guard whenever you leave the building.”

“You have a _personal guard_?” Rangiku squealed. “Why don’t I?”

Ichigo yelled at his trainees again before returning his attention to the princesses. “You all do. Kira’s your guard. Abarai assigned whoever he thought you’d be least likely to outrun or chase off.” He looked at Rukia meaningfully.

“So when are you _available_ to guard Rukia?” Rangiku asked, and ignored Rukia’s mumble of _Really, Rangiku?_

Ichigo glanced up at the sky and then at his men, who were on their fourth lap. “I’m about to send this group to dunk their heads since they all drank themselves sick last night. Do you need to go somewhere, your highness?”

Rukia just looked at him for a moment, lips parted, until Rangiku jabbed her elbow into her side. “Ow! Ah – I’d like to take a walk in the gardens,” she admitted. “I’m not due to see Yuzu again until next week and I’m starting to feel a bit…stir-crazy.”

“I’d be happy to escort you both once I’ve dismissed this lot,” Ichigo agreed.

But Rangiku grinned at him. “ _I’m_ going into the city. If this Kira will allow me off the grounds anyway. He looks so _dour_.”

Rukia watched as Ichigo glanced back to look at Kira, who was watching the proceedings impassively. He really did look awfully dour, she thought.

“Alright, go dunk your heads in the trough and take a break,” Ichigo yelled a few minutes later as the last man straggled towards him. “And _don’t_ do it again. In a real fight a hangover could get you killed.” He scowled as they walked past him, more than one of the men looking green. When they were gone, he jumped the fence and dusted his hands off. “Your highness?” he asked expectantly.

Rukia pinched her sister lightly in the side and set off for the gate that led from the training grounds to the vast gardens of the palace. She hadn’t been in the gardens in months, and they seemed larger than she remembered. But the manicured pathways were the same as always, and so was the vast emptiness: after Emperor Yamamoto’s last wife died, the garden parties and games of hide and seek ended. She doubted that anyone except the gardeners saw much of the grounds.

“Were you able to visit your family last week?” Rukia asked as they strolled along a pebbled pathway that led through tall hedges. They were already out of sight of the palace and not another soul was in sight.

“They’re living down by the canal now. It’s a nicer place than the house by the merchants’ quarters,” Ichigo said. “Karin’s a shopkeeper’s assistant and my father is still a healer. They’re pretty happy I’m home.”

They turned down another path, this one lined with trees so tall that their branches had started to twine overhead and form a natural tunnel. “I’m glad,” Rukia said softly, and chanced a look at him. His flame-bright hair was ruffled by the breeze and he looked _relaxed_ – as relaxed as she’d ever seen him. Though his palm rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, it seemed more like habit than necessity.

“Hn. It was a good visit. Even if my father immediately asked why I don’t have a wife,” Ichigo grumbled. He wasn’t looking at her as he said it, but there was a slight flush to his cheeks.

A breeze rustled through the leaves overhead, and Rukia’s laughter joined it. “Haven’t you only been back from the war for a month?” she asked. “When would you have had time to court and marry a woman?”

“Che. Tell that to _him_. He wants grandchildren, and neither of my sisters have married either. Yuzu was never interested in boys, and Karin – well.” Ichigo cleared his throat and looked away. “Her fiancé died in the war.”

Rukia’s hand touched his lightly, and though she knew it wasn’t entirely proper, when Ichigo’s hand drifted closer in response she twined her fingers with his. She didn’t say anything, but after a few more steps he spoke again.

“He was a good friend. But he was assigned to the infantry, and he was a big man – he made an easy target.” Ichigo’s voice was rough – but he squeezed her hand lightly. “Ah, sorry. Didn’t mean to get melancholy,” he told her, as they made it through the tunnel. The greenhouse loomed in front of them.

“Let’s go inside,” Rukia suggested. “There are some very pretty plants that only grow in here.”

Ichigo held the door open for her and they stepped inside. The air was scented with vanilla and oranges – he could see trees growing close to the walls of the greenhouse with green fruit growing from them. “This is huge,” he said when the door shut behind them.

“Hn. My sisters and I used to play here,” Rukia agreed. “We were banned when the younger girls knocked over a few too many of the pots.”

“Tell me about your sisters?” Ichigo asked as he led her toward a low bench beneath one of the orange trees. He brushed the wooden boards off before she sat, pale blue silk settling around her legs.

“How long do you have?” Rukia asked jokingly, but she said, “Nanao, Rangiku, and I are the closest. Nanao’s less than two years younger than me and Rangiku is barely three years younger – father married her mother very quickly. Nanao is _very_ serious. She speaks six languages and tutors the youngest girls. And General Kyouraku is in love with her, which is a secret – except of course everyone knows. Rangiku is the most dramatic of us. You met my fourth sister, Orihime – she’s a terrible romantic. She _loves_ romance novels. And Tatsuki would rather be ahorse than anywhere else. She was a champion rider before…”

Ichigo sat next to her on the bench. “And your younger sisters?” he asked lightly.

“Oh – Hinamori’s like Orihime, they’d rather read love stories than do anything else. Although she has a stubborn streak to her. She and Orihime find it all very romantic…”

“Find what romantic?” Ichigo’s voice was still light, but he was looking at her intently. His face was awfully close to hers, and this close Rukia could see that there were little flecks in his irises. She could smell the slightly musky scent from his earlier combat exercises and the lingering hint of strong soap.

“Oh just – everything,” Rukia managed.

“Do you want me to tell you that I’ll keep your secrets, Rukia?” Ichigo asked, and his voice was a little husky. His pupils dilated as his eyes looked into hers. The way he was looking at her – it made her heart beat faster. It wasn’t the way anyone else looked at her. It wasn’t even close to the way Sosuke looked at her.

“N-no,” she whispered.

“Then what do you want? You hint – and pull away when I ask questions.” His eyes were still fastened on hers.

“I want – “ Vanilla wafted under her nose and Rukia leaned closer. “I want this.” She lifted her head and covered her mouth with his suddenly, cheeks bright red.

Before she could draw back in embarrassment, Ichigo’s arm slid around her waist and he pulled her closer, practically into his lap. Her arms slid around his shoulders and neck, pulling him closer in turn. When he took control of the kiss she moaned into his mouth and it drove him on. He licked into her mouth – he tasted _delicious_ and Rukia chased after him when his tongue slid away from hers. His other hand came up to cup the back of her neck and he tilted his head a little more to kiss her more deeply, to slant his mouth over hers.

They were panting into one another’s mouths when he finally pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “That…” He took a deep breath and his eyes opened, pupils blown wide and irises honeyed amber in the greenhouse light. “ _Rukia.”_

Her cheeks were as red as his, and she shook a little atop his lap. “That was a lot more than I expected from a first kiss,” she managed.

“You’ve never been kissed before?” Ichigo asked and pulled back. His brow furrowed. “But –“

Before he could remember that she was a princess who wasn’t really supposed to go around kissing people, Rukia leaned in and kissed him again. From her angle in his lap she could feel him hardening beneath her, but Ichigo’s fingers just rested on her back as he pulled her ever closer, as though he was trying to merge them into one being.

“We probably shouldn’t be doing this,” Ichigo whispered. “You’re the _Crown Princess_. I’m just a – a former soldier.”

“I don’t care,” Rukia whispered back.

The words shocked a laugh out of Ichigo, and his lips trailed down her neck. “You could get me in a _lot_ of trouble,” he said roughly.

“I’m too old to be bartered off for a peace treaty,” Rukia muttered as she tilted her head up to give him more room. “And my sisters are prettier than me anyway.” She shifted her hips against his and couldn’t help the gasp that left her when her center brushed against him, even through their clothes. His answering groan made her shiver.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” But he pulled back again, and his hand came up to brush a lock of hair from her face. “Is this really what you want? Are you _sure_?”

This time it was Rukia who pulled away, sliding from his lap in a rustle of silk. “Well if you _don’t_ , then don’t kiss me again. I don’t want your – your pity.”

Ichigo scowled at her and grabbed for her, dragging her back onto his lap and kissing her roughly, arm holding her tight against him and tongue driving into her mouth. His lips slid down her neck next and he tugged at the fabric covering her shoulder, pulling it down. “It’s not pity,” he growled against her skin.

Rukia gasped as his teeth scraped and then bit, lightly. “Ow! I can’t – that’s going to _show_ if you mark me,” she gasped. But she shuddered against him with arousal and she could feel herself slicken as his hips rocked up into her.

His eyes stared into hers, pupils blown wide. “Who would see it?”

_Sosuke_ , she thought. But aloud she said, “My sisters. My sisters would see it when I change for bed.”

Ichigo’s tongue slid over the spot he’d bit, but he didn’t bite again. “You’re thinking of someone else.” The words were flat as he lifted his mouth from her skin.

Rukia huffed in irritation, but his arm was tight around her. “Stop _asking questions_ ,” she ordered.

It was the wrong thing to say. Ichigo’s arm left her and he carefully lifted her, setting her beside him instead of on his lap. “Don’t use me to distract yourself, princess,” he said stiffly, and stood despite his apparent discomfort. “You should continue your walk.” He was scowling again but not looking at her, and his cheeks, which had been flushed while they’d been kissing, were heated with anger instead.

“I’m not—” Rukia stood and kicked him in the shin. “ _Fool_ ,” she said, and stalked from the greenhouse with blue silk billowing around her. She heard Ichigo sigh, and his footsteps followed her. They didn’t speak until they were at the far corner of grounds, in the rose garden. The heavy scent of the flowers flooded the air.

“I would keep your secrets if you asked,” Ichigo said as she reached for a blood red rose. The petals were in full bloom and wrapped around one another.

She succeeded in snapping off the stem and separating the flower from the larger rose bush – but then Rukia hissed as a large thorn stabbed painfully into the skin between her thumb and forefinger. Blood welled from the cut, and she brought her hand to her mouth to suck on the wound.

Ichigo was faster, and as he grabbed her hand he pulled a white cloth from within the pocket of his uniform. “You need to be careful, your highness,” he told her as he wrapped the cloth around her palm and put pressure on the wound.

She grumbled “I didn’t see it,” under her breath, though she didn’t pull her hand from his.

“Hn. We should go back to the palace so you can wash that off and get a proper bandage,” Ichigo said calmly.

Rukia shook his hand off of hers and swept through the gardens quickly. Tears prickled hot behind her eyes but she held her head high and wouldn’t let them fall. Ichigo wouldn’t let her get far ahead of him – he stayed only a few steps behind and she could feel his eyes on hers. They reached the side door of the palace in only a few minutes.

“Highness.” The word was quiet and she could hear a pleading note in it. He was next to her, suddenly, and his hand reached past her to push the door open. Rukia shut her eyes tightly, and a trickle of water escaped from the corner of one eye.

A fingertip reached up and brushed away the wetness on her face. Rukia’s eyes opened to look into his; under the shadow of the palace, Ichigo’s eyes were still warm amber as they looked into hers. She stared at him a long moment, before throwing the door open and slipping inside. Ichigo didn’t follow.

Instead, Ichigo stalked back to the training grounds and relieved Hisagi Shuhei of the guards he was training. This batch was more seasoned – and Ichigo took his frustrations out on them. For two hours he made them build up their muscle strength with body weight exercises, and their stamina by running laps around the salle. He ran with them, until his legs felt like jelly and his chest was heaving.

“Kurosaki!” Sergeant Abarai’s voice cut through the sounds of harsh breathing and the sound of boots pounding into the dirt ground.

“Take a breather. _Walk_ around the salle,” Ichigo ordered, and walked over to the edge of the fence. “Sergeant,” he said.

Renji looked him over, tunic soaked through with sweat and chest still heaving, and grunted. “I think you’ve worked them hard enough. Let them go before the bald one starts retching.” Then he paused and glanced toward the gardens. “I’m reassigning you. You’ll be guarding the princesses’ room overnight, starting tomorrow.”

Ichigo’s eyebrows raised nearly into his hairline. “Why that assignment?” he asked, before turning as a struggling group of guards trailed close to him. “Training’s over. Take another slow lap around the salle so you don’t stiffen up.”

“Because I don’t want you to run off all my best guards,” Renji drawled. “And the crown princess hasn’t bitched about you, so maybe the princesses won’t chase you off the way they have six of my other guards. Hirako won’t go near them.”

Privately, Ichigo thought that Rukia would have something to say about that. But – his orders didn’t change and so the following evening, after a nap in the barracks, he pulled on the more formal tunic guards used for palace duties, and with extensive directions from Renji, found his way to the princesses’ room.

The day guard, a slender man with light brown hair, nodded to him when he arrived, and held out a key on a rope. “Put that on,” he said by way of greeting. “You’re not to let anyone in or out unless there’s an emergency. Some poor jerk named Onishi is on his third night trying to find out what’s going on with the princesses’ slippers. He should be here in a minute.”

Ichigo nodded to the other guard. A heavyset man in elegant velvet stepped around the corner, followed by Hisagi and Kensei.

“Open the door,” Kensei ordered, and Ichigo used the key to unlock the door and push it open. “This is your last night,” he said to Onishi. If you are not able to tell the emperor why his daughters’ slippers are worn out and why they are exhausted every day, your life is forfeit.”

Not for the first time, Ichigo thought the Emperor needed a different incentive for these men. And there was something the old woman had told him about the princesses – but he couldn’t remember what it was.

But Onishi only nodded in agreement, a nervous look on his face, and stepped inside. Ichigo could see Rukia looking at him as the door closed. Her eyes were wide and there was fear in her expression. He had to find out what the hell was going on – without getting himself killed.

The door into the princesses’ bedroom wasn’t entirely soundproof, but it was difficult to hear much of anything. There was the occasional sound of a girl’s laughter, the occasional creak of wood from old floors. But then things were quiet. Ichigo stood guard the whole night; by morning he was stifling yawns but still standing. Kensei arrived again, and gave Ichigo a look. “Did you hear anything?” he asked.

Ichigo shook his head. “Quiet all night,” he added.

“Alright – unlock the door then.” Ichigo pulled the key from around his neck and pounded twice on the door before he unlocked it.

If Onishi had looked nervous the night before, he looked _terrified_ in the morning light, and Ichigo swallowed heavily. He was looking at a dead man walking. He chanced a look into the room again; most of the women were still sleeping, but Rukia and Nanao were awake. Rukia’s amethyst eyes were filled with regret, lips pale and bloodless. Nanao was holding her hands tightly, and they both had deep shadows beneath their eyes.

Ichigo let the door close as Onishi stepped out, and Kensei took the man’s arm.

“Well. Time to report to the emperor, then,” Kensei said. “Iwasaki will be here to relieve you in a few minutes.”

He nodded in agreement, but when Kensei and Onishi were gone, he looked up and down the hallway before opening the door again. Rukia was staring at him and she rose from her place next to Nanao.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered harshly.

Ichigo scowled at her. “I was assigned to guard you. While you do – whatever it is you did last night that had you looking like _you_ ’re the one who’s facing the axe this morning,” he growled back. Rukia recoiled from him, hurt in her eyes, and his hand reached for her wrist before she could go back inside. He kept his fingers as gentle as he could, but added, “Can’t you just tell your father whatever’s going on, so he’ll stop having men killed?”

Rukia’s eyes filled with tears, but she shook her head frantically and pulled away. Ichigo let her go, and shut the door just before another guard turned the corner.

“Is there a problem, Kurosaki?” he asked.

Ichigo shrugged. “It was quiet all night. Poor bastard’s getting his head cut off this morning, though.”

The guard winced and held his hand out for the key. “They know what they’re in for when they seek an audience,” he reminded somberly.

He shook his head and walked back down to the barracks, flinging himself on his bed without bothering to take off more than his boots. He slept until early afternoon and dreamt of Rukia’s eyes, wide and scared, as poor Onishi got his head cut off by a vengeful emperor. The dreams turned into nightmares of his old comrades, of the war along the border, disjointed and filled with blood. When he woke screaming, Hisagi was staring at him and Hirako was holding him down.

“Easy, Kurosaki. There’s no war here,” Hisagi said quietly, when he’d composed himself. “You’re in the barracks at the palace.”

Ichigo shook off Hirako. “Yeah – sorry. Did I do something?” he asked, glancing between the other two men.

“Tried to give each of us a black eye,” Hirako drawled. He had a lot of teeth and an odd haircut, Ichigo thought, for a guardsman. Blond, straight as a pin down to his chin, and with bangs cut straight across his forehead. But then, Abarai’s hair was blood red and Ichigo had been allowed to keep his hair as it was, shaggy and falling into his eyes.

“Sorry,” Ichigo said again. “Am I needed?”

“Hn. Her highness the Crown Princess requests your escort. She wouldn’t allow Abarai to assign anyone else,” Hisagi sneered.

Ichigo blinked and rolled out of bed. “Fine. Tell her I’m cleaning up.”

“Any idea why she likes _you_ so much?” Hirako asked.

Ichigo just shrugged. “Maybe because I’m the brother of her friend down at the orphanage?” he guessed. But he knew why, and it made something in his chest simultaneously loosen and tighten back up. She wasn’t so angry with him that she didn’t want to see him again – maybe.

He cleaned himself up and changed into a clean uniform. There was a small mirror in the bathing area of the barracks and Ichigo glanced at it as he passed; his hair was getting long and there were a few white strands amidst the bright orange of his hair. Ichigo combed the shaggy mop as best he could and then left the barracks.

Rukia was waiting for him, smudges of exhaustion beneath red-rimmed eyes, and Ichigo exchanged a look with Hisagi before he hurried to her side. He bowed, since there were other guardsmen watching him. “Your Highness,” he said carefully. “You asked for an escort?”

She looked up at him but said nothing – just spun on her heel and stalked toward the gate. Hirako snorted and Ichigo shrugged at him before he hurried to follow, one hand on the hilt of Zangetsu. He caught up to Rukia just past the gate, and they walked in silence. She wasn’t following any of her usual routes, Ichigo thought. “Are we going somewhere specific, princess?” he asked quietly, when they’d been walking for almost fifteen minutes.

“Yes.” Rukia turned again and Ichigo rolled his eyes but followed.

Where they were going, it turned out, was a dressmaker’s far outside of the merchant’s quarter. Ichigo wouldn’t have thought they were in the right place, for the building was a plain little house on a residential street. But Rukia rang the doorbell and a tall, slender woman answered. “Ah, your highness! Come in, come in. Kisuke is just setting up for your order.”

Ichigo blinked in confusion but followed Rukia past the woman, who looked him up and down with a grin that bordered on a leer.

“And you brought a new guard,” she observed. “Handsome, this time. The blonds you brought me before were so _unpleasant_. I’m Shihouin Yoruichi,” she greeted, and stalked around Ichigo in such a feline manner that he couldn’t help but picture a cat stalking its prey.

“Kurosaki Ichigo,” he said stiffly.

Yoruichi grinned at him and before he could protest, she shoved him into a wooden chair. “Have a seat, handsome. Kisuke needs her to try the dress on one more time.” Ichigo’s cheeks heated and he glanced toward the next room, which Rukia had disappeared into.

Rukia’s voice trailed back from the other room, over the scrape of wood against the floor. “Stop flirting, Yoruichi,” she ordered, but there was a laugh in her voice and Ichigo’s face softened at the sound.

Yoruichi caught it, and her grin only widened. “Oh, _that’s_ how it is?” she asked, and put a cup of tea in front of him. “Yes, your highness,” she called.

Ichigo cleared his throat and mumbled his thanks for the tea. It was good and hot, if a little over-brewed. From the other room came the murmuring of voices and the rustling of fabric, then the scrape of wood on wood again.

“Well? What do you think, your highness?” a male voice asked, and Ichigo turned. A tall, blond man in a green jacket and striped pants stood next to Rukia. He leaned on a wooden cane and his eyes were hidden by a green and white striped hat. “It needed a little taking in – you’re not eating enough.”

Rukia – Ichigo swallowed, hard. Rukia wore a silk gown the color of a ripe plum. Ichigo wasn’t overly familiar with what a princess should wear, but this looked fancier than anything he’d seen before: Gauzy fabric made up the full, sweeping skirt and bodice of the gown, and gathered at her shoulders into transparent straps. The bodice was lined with fabric to protect Rukia’s modesty but clung tightly to her waist and breasts just the same. Oddly, the gauzy fabric covered her arms and the neckline was much higher than he expected, coming nearly to the base of her neck. A full-sleeved jacket of transparent white silk covered her arms.

Ichigo realized he was holding his breath, and he breathed out slowly. “Preparing for a ball?” he asked and frowned at the way Rukia flinched.

“This fits nicely, thank you, Kisuke,” Rukia said firmly, and turned away from Ichigo. “Please have it sent to the palace the usual way.”

Ichigo blinked as she disappeared behind the screen again.

“The princesses order many dancing gowns from us,” Kisuke said casually, startling Ichigo – he hadn’t realized the man was anywhere near him. “And many, many dancing slippers. But there haven’t been any balls at the palace in years.”

Ichigo stared at him. “Strange,” he agreed.

“Strange indeed,” the blond said, and fanned himself lightly.

Before Ichigo could say anything else, Rukia came around the screen again. She was dressed in the garb she’d been wearing previously, and she gestured imperiously to him. “Thank you, Kisuke, Yoruichi.”

Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose and followed her back out the door. They got about fifty feet away from the modiste’s before Ichigo spotted a little park – more of a garden, really – and steered Rukia into it. There was no one else in the space. “You’re dancing somewhere, you and your sisters,” he accused. When Rukia lowered her eyes and tried to pull away from him, Ichigo kept a firm – but gentle – hold on her arm. “You’re getting out of your room somehow and you’re dancing all night. And you’re _terrified_.” He could feel her shaking under his hand.

“The only way in or out of our bedroom into the rest of the palace is the door you guarded last night,” Rukia said quietly. “How could we possibly be running off to dance?”

He just snorted. “I don’t know, Rukia,” he said just as quietly. “But you took me here today for a reason.” Then he leaned down and lowered his mouth to hers. Despite her unease she was soft against him, and the little hitch of surprise in her breath before Rukia slid her free arm around the back of his neck was surprisingly satisfying.

But: “Leave it,” she whispered when they parted. “I can’t stop other men from throwing their lives away, but you – I’ll never forgive you.”

Ichigo just kissed her again and wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her closer to him. And he thought, _I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t fix this._


	4. The First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo resolves to find out where the crown princess and her sisters are dancing, and presents himself to Emperor Yamamoto.

They didn’t talk about the man who’d died that morning. They never spoke about the men who died. Orihime wasn’t sure if it was because her sisters didn’t care or because there was nothing they could do to stop it. She didn’t think it was the first one – Rukia always looked positively brokenhearted, and her talk with that guard of hers, the one with the bright orange hair, had left her looking shellshocked on her futon.

Dead men or not, the music beckoned. Like clockwork, once they were locked inside their shared room, the princesses stripped off their nightwear and donned their finery and dancing slippers. Orihime wore the sparkling blue flower pins that she’d inherited from her mother; she wore them every night, as though they might protect her.

The strains of violin music always drew them like a spell; Orihime followed her older sisters down beneath the palace and through the magical place that they’d found. She knew that not all of her sisters were as enamored of their dance partners as she was; Rukia and Nanao seemed positively _repelled_ by their partners, and Orihime was certain that Tatsuki was going to come to blows with hers, _Though_ , she thought, _Tatsuki and Grimmjow might actually consider that flirting_.

But just because her sisters didn’t like their princes didn’t mean that Orihime couldn’t enjoy hers. _Her_ prince was so very handsome, though so somber that she just wanted to make him smile. Ulquiorra bowed to her as she met him at his little boat, and she curtsied with a sweep of her pale green dress. “You are beautiful tonight as always,” he told her as he helped her into the craft and stepped in after. He pushed off from the shore once Prince Sosuke’s boat was in the water, and they traveled toward the brightly lit palace across the water.

“You’re too kind,” she told him sweetly. They traveled the rest of the way in silence, but it was companionable, and Ulquiorra’s hands were gentle as he helped her onto the dock at the other side. And then they were dancing, sweeping across the ballroom in a swirl of green silk and white trousers. His bright, emerald-green eyes never left hers as they spun and twirled, though Orihime had always thought that her sister Rangiku was prettier than her, and Isane and Nanao far more striking.

“How strange that you still compare yourself to your sisters,” he said, and Orihime blushed as she realized she’d spoken out loud. Before she could reply, the music changed and Ulquiorra led her to the banquet table. “Have something to eat with me.”

Orihime’s stomach grumbled its hunger, and her cheeks heated. “You take such good care of me, Ulquiorra,” she said. The table was covered in little finger foods and fruits that could be eaten with the hands, and they both filled their plates.

“It is my duty, woman,” he replied solemnly, but there was a hint of softness in his bright green eyes. “You are my partner, after all – are you not?”

She was sure her cheeks were red as cherries, but Orihime just smiled up at him as he guided her to a little table with chairs off to one side of the ballroom. “I am,” she agreed.

* * *

Ichigo stood guard over the princesses’ room for the next five nights. No other men came to try their luck at solving the mystery, and so Ichigo listened carefully at the door each of those nights. There was always a lot of rustling and laughter, some of it awfully strained. And one night one of the smallest girls chattered something about _princes_ before she was hushed. Eventually things would go quiet and he would listen for other sounds. Each morning he mapped out the exterior of the room and the rooms surrounding it, looking for an entrance into the princesses’ room or some other way they were getting in and out. But there was nothing.

On the sixth day, he slept, and then went to find Renji. “I know what’s happening to the princesses,” Ichigo said when he stood in front of the Sergeant at Arms. “And I’m going to prove it.”

Renji eyed him unfavorably. “You’re going to get yourself killed,” he growled. “Why the hell would you do something so stupid?”

But Ichigo tapped the hilt of Zangetsu lightly. “I’m not going to get myself killed,” he promised. And thought: _Rukia would never forgive me_.

Renji scowled at him and ran a hand through his bright crimson hair. “I’d rather not bury you, Kurosaki. I hope you’re right.”

With that reluctant blessing, Ichigo changed into his best uniform and gathered up the cloak that the old woman had given him. He remembered, suddenly, what she’d told him: not to drink anything that the princesses gave him. And so, he neatened up his hair as best he could and walked back into the palace.

“Are you out of your _mind?_ ” Hisagi snarled at him when Ichigo presented himself to him – and to Muguruma – with his intentions.

“No,” Ichigo said, and left it at that.

With a shake of his head, Muguruma led him into the emperor’s throne room. “Bow when you are ten feet from the throne and do not rise until the Emperor says you can,” Muguruma ordered. “And don’t insult him, or the princesses.”

When the doors opened, Ichigo stepped in, Muguruma following, and did as his fellow guard ordered. The room was the most opulent he’d ever seen: painted watercolors lined the walls in gilt frames, and the ceiling was carved with intricate floral images. The path he walked was covered in thick tatami mats; they felt springy under his boots.

At the end of the path sat the Emperor Yamamoto on a heavy wooden throne. He was _old_ , Ichigo thought, although he shouldn’t have been surprised: Rukia was thirty, after all. The long white beard down the front of his body, wrapped in black ribbon, only added to the feeling of age. He seemed almost _small_ in the dark robes he wore, although Ichigo knew that the man had been formidable in his youth.

Rukia, wearing a silver coronet atop her head, was seated at her father’s right hand, and her sisters surrounded them: eleven other women and girls in a rainbow of colorful kimonos. He recognized Rangiku, Nanao, and Orihime among them.

When he judged himself to be around ten feet from the throne, Ichigo bowed. “You may rise,” Yamamoto said, and Ichigo straightened up. Rukia was staring at him, all color washed from her face as she gripped the arms of her chair tightly. “Who are you and why have you come here, soldier?” the Emperor asked.

“Your Imperial Highness,” Ichigo greeted. “My name is Kurosaki Ichigo. I am a veteran of your army and a member of the palace guard. I have come to solve the mystery of your daughters’ slippers.”

Rukia’s eyes were wide and dark in her pale face. Rangiku and Orihime exchanged a plainly nervous look. But Ichigo stood silent while the Emperor looked him over.

“You have three nights, Kurosaki Ichigo. If you succeed, you may have any one of my daughters as your wife. I trust, as a guard of the palace, that you understand what will happen if you fail.”

Ichigo nodded firmly. “I understand. And I will not fail,” he vowed. He watched as Rukia’s eyes filled with tears but kept his gaze on the Emperor.

“Hn. Many have said that. But perhaps you are correct,” Yamamoto said in his low, growly voice. “Muguruma, you will escort this man to the princesses’ bedroom this evening. You are dismissed, Kurosaki Ichigo. Good luck.”

Ichigo bowed again and backed away from the throne. He kept his eyes on Rukia as he did, and broke eye contact only when Muguruma indicated that he could turn around.

“Come on. The rules are that you get meals and a place to rest during the day, then spend each of the three nights in the princesses’ bedroom,” Muguruma said. He started down the hallway and Ichigo followed. They arrived at a small room, though it was only a little less opulent than the throne room. Upon a small table was laid a place setting, and even as Ichigo sat down, a servant arrived through a side door with a plate of exquisite-looking sashimi.

The meal was some of the best food Ichigo had ever eaten in his life – though he was careful not to overindulge. He didn’t drink any of the sake or beer he was offered and asked only for cold water. It wasn’t quite a feast, but it was much better than what he ate in the barracks: elegantly crafted sushi followed the sashimi, and there was delicate soup to follow that. There was a small platter of seared tuna as well, sliced to show off the brilliant pink-red flesh inside, and fragrant rice. There were even pastel-hued mochi.

When the meal was done, Ichigo followed Hisagi and Muguruma back through the palace. The night guard – a man Ichigo didn’t recognize – shook his head as he unlocked the door to let him in.

“Good luck, Kurosaki,” Muguruma said gruffly, and Hisagi echoed the words. Then the door was locked behind him, and Ichigo was locked in a room with twelve princesses. And they were _all_ staring at him.

Rangiku was the first to speak, and she waggled her eyebrows as she looked him over. “Well, I didn’t expect to see _you_ here,” she said, and grinned at him. “Hoping to capture the hand of our lovely Rukia, handsome?” she teased. But there were shadows in her eyes as she said the words.

“Stop flirting, Ran,” Sui-Feng ordered and rolled her eyes. “He’s just like all the rest, isn’t he? Trying to find out the ‘mystery’ and get rich.”

There was a murmur that swept through the room at that, but Ichigo only had eyes for Rukia.

“You _fool_ ,” she whispered, and the other women sobered. “I told you to leave it alone!”

He crossed the room to her, boots echoing on the wooden floor. There was a strange echo when his heel tapped one of the floorboards, and Ichigo frowned even as he reached Rukia. “I told you,” he said quietly when they were only a few feet apart. “I will not fail.” Behind them Orihime and one of the dark-haired girls gave twin sighs. Rangiku just leered. And Rukia – well, Rukia’s eyes filled again. When a single tear spilled over Ichigo wiped it away with his thumb.

“Well. It’s time for bed, ladies,” Nanao said into the silence as Ichigo stared into Rukia’s eyes. There were a few more sighs, and then Sui-Feng came forward.

“Have a drink with us, Kurosaki Ichigo,” she offered, and held out a porcelain cup full of sake.

 _Don’t drink anything the princesses offer you_. The warning came back to him, and Ichigo took a breath. “Thank you, your highness, but I don’t drink. It’s bad for the liver.” It wasn’t entirely a fib – he drank only very rarely and hadn’t done so at all since arriving at the palace.

“Your futon is behind that screen,” Nanao said matter-of-factly before Sui-Feng could press the issue. “We need some privacy to change for bed.”

Ichigo nodded briefly and exchanged one more look with Rukia before he stepped behind the wooden screen that had been set up in one corner of the room. There, he pretended to ready himself for sleep: removing his belt and boots and hanging his cloak up. He made a bit of noise as he went: yawned as if he was tired despite not drinking, arranged the futon and lay down on it as if he was going to sleep. On the other side of the screen dresses and blankets rustled. Eventually someone blew out the lamps, and all was silent.

Ichigo turned on his side and in a few minutes, evened out his breathing as much as he could. He didn’t like being in the dark like this, hemmed in behind the screen. There was no light at all; nothing to remind him that he wasn’t trapped. He reminded himself that the women were on the other side of the screen and that he wasn’t alone.

The first rustle of a blanket forced his eyes open a few minutes later. Whispers echoed throughout the room and Ichigo could hear the wardrobes near his futon opening. He shut his eyes but listened carefully.

“He didn’t drink the sake,” one of the women hissed. “What if he wakes up?”

“Do you hear him? He’s sound asleep.”

“What about – are you okay, Rukia?”

“I’m fine. Just help me with the floorboards.” That was Rukia’s voice, and it was all Ichigo could do not to give himself away. The floor had sounded odd – hollow. _That_ was how they were getting out.

He heard the sound of the boards being pried up; not all of them, by the sound of it, just a few. And then something heavy hit the floor.

“Follow me,” Rukia said. Ichigo listened to the rustling of fabric as the women moved. He waited until the last girl vanished in a flurry of steps that seemed to be getting further away, and then sat up. Ichigo strapped his sword back on and threw the cloak from the old woman around himself. He pulled the hood on and crept out from behind the screen.

It was a trap door. There was a trap door in the middle of the princesses’ rooms – in the middle of the _palace_. Ichigo followed as silently as he could. leaving his boots behind. The princesses were just ahead of him, dressed in ballgowns and wearing their dancing slippers. He could see Rukia in the lead, her gown pale blue and her hair pulled up into an elegant knot. The other women were a rainbow of colors, hair done up as if for a party.

He was careful not to fall too far behind them but to stay far enough away from the youngest girl that he wouldn’t step on her pretty pink frock. But then they passed through the grove of silver trees, and Ichigo’s jaw dropped open. He looked up – there was no ceiling that he could see.

But the sisters were continuing forward, and he followed through the grove of golden trees and then through the grove of bejeweled trees. He shook his head in astonishment and thought – here was his proof. Before he could decide whether to break off a twig, the princesses moved on and they reached the shore of the lake.

Twelve men and boys stood by twelve boats, and when Rukia greeted the tall brunet, Ichigo’s hackles rose. He hadn’t been wrong: she didn’t look thrilled, she looked _terrified and helpless_. And he had no idea why. No one had noticed him, not even the men, and so Ichigo stepped into the boat of the smallest princess and her beau. He crouched down and made himself as small as possible.

“The boat feels heavier tonight, Ururu,” the redheaded boy commented as he poled them across the lake. “We’re falling behind your sisters.”

“Aa – I am not sure why,” Ururu murmured. “Perhaps your paddle is caught in kelp?”

“There’s no kelp in the lake, idiot,” the boy said, and Ichigo raised an eyebrow. Ururu just pouted and slumped on the wooden bench in the center of the boat.

Ichigo couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw it: there was a _palace_ beneath the city! They had to be in the city, still, he thought – the walk from the trap door to the lakeshore hadn’t been that long. He wondered how such a structure could have remained hidden for so long. The emperor obviously didn’t know about it. The whole building was lit up and he could hear music coming from it.

The other eleven boats had already docked by the time the one carrying Ururu and Ichigo arrived; the snotty redheaded boy didn’t even help Ururu onto the stone dock. Ichigo waited until she was safely out of the boat before he stepped onto the dock as well, and he hung back and watched as the twelve princesses and their twelve escorts walked into the building.

There was something very ceremonial about the way it happened: they walked together in two lines through the enormous doors of the underground palace, and then separated into pairs once they were inside. “Inside” turned out to be a grand ballroom like nothing Ichigo had ever seen before. It was grander even than the throne room! And Urahara had pointed him in the right direction: the princesses were coming here to dance. Ichigo found as inconspicuous a spot as he could and watched as ten of the twelve princesses danced with their partners. The two youngest girls just chased their partners around the ballroom.

Despite how _beautiful_ Rukia looked, she seemed frightened of her partner. So did some of the other sisters – although Nanao looked more bored than anything else. Orihime and Rangiku, however, seemed genuinely smitten with theirs. Rangiku sparkled in pale yellow on the arm of a fox-faced man with silver hair, and Orihime was on the arm of a pale and somewhat _dour_ looking man who nevertheless looked rather soft every time he turned his attention to his dance partner.

The dancing went on for hours and hours, and Ichigo stifled yawns behind his cloak. Though apparently no one could see him, he stayed as still as possible until the music stopped and the dancers walked back to the boats. Once again, he stepped into a boat behind a princess; this time he chose the dark-haired, athletic looking one whose partner looked much stronger than the little redheaded boy. There were no complaints of weight on the way back.

“You’ll come back tomorrow night,” the brunet who’d partnered Rukia said smoothly when the boats were all on the lakeshore. She jerked back from him when he tried to touch her cheek.

“We can’t dance with you each night,” she said, as she backed away from him. “Our father is unhappy with how much of the day we spend sleeping.”

But there was a strange light in the tall man’s eyes, and his smile struck Ichigo as _smarmy_. “Oh but you must, princess. You must _all_ come back and dance tomorrow night. And you mustn’t tell _anyone_ about our dancing. You do know that, princess.”

The words seemed to cast a spell on Rukia, for she wilted before him and nodded tiredly. “We will be back tomorrow night,” she whispered, and turned down the path back toward the palace.

Ichigo ran ahead of the women and quickly snapped off twigs from the jeweled trees, then from the golden and silver trees. He hid them beneath his cloak and ran up the steps toward the trap door. Before Rukia’s feet touched the wood of her bedroom, Ichigo was back behind the screen, breathing evenly and pretending he was asleep. When he heard the wooden boards being pushed back into place, he closed his eyes and really did fall asleep.

The next morning the guards opened the doors and let him out. “Did you find out what’s going on?” Muguruma asked, and eyed Ichigo carefully.

He almost said yes – but there was something _deeper_ happening. It wasn’t just that the princesses were staying up late to dance. Something about the tall man partnering with Rukia was sinister, and his insistence that the sisters dance every night was suspicious. “I’m on the right track,” he said instead. “But I will need another night.”

Muguruma let out a breath. “That’s more than anyone else has said,” he muttered. “Well. You’re breakfasting with the princesses. I’ll take you to a room to get cleaned up and change.”

The amenities in the palace were _much_ nicer than those in the barracks, and there was no comparison at all between the palace and his time on the border. Though he was distracted by the puzzle of the dancing princesses and their sinister-looking partners, Ichigo took his time bathing with clean, hot water. There was a razor and a bar of shaving soap, as well as a mirror, and Ichigo took the time to shave his face free of orange stubble.

Then he dressed in clothing more luxurious than he’d ever worn – soft hakama and a russet-hued silk kimono – and stepped back outside.

“Well. You do clean up,” Muguruma said, and grinned at him. “Come on, their highnesses should all be ready now.”

Breakfast with the princesses was – an experience. Ichigo sat between Rukia and Nanao, the latter of whom raised an eyebrow at him and glanced meaningfully at Rukia. Rangiku was practically asleep in her rice and eggs, and Orihime was enthusiastically pouring some kind of red sauce onto hers. The other, younger women were a little more awake than Rangiku was, but everyone except for the two youngest were drinking tea that smelled so strong Ichigo wrinkled his nose at it.

“You slept all night,” Rukia murmured to him while her sisters were occupied.

But Ichigo’s hand found hers beneath the table and lightly pressed against hers. “No,” he said.

The single word had her turning to stare at him, eyes wide and bright amethyst in the sunlight coming in from a skylight overhead. “But – you didn’t tell Captain Muguruma to take you to my father,” she whispered. Her hand turned against his and twined their fingers together.

“Hn. Leave it with me a little while longer, will you?” Ichigo asked, and his hand squeezed hers.

Some of the tension left Rukia’s body and she turned her attention to her breakfast. Ichigo had to let go of her hand to eat his own meal – he topped his rice with a large egg and pieces of smoked fish, as well as a little natto. He could feel eyes on him, and as the women finished their breakfasts, he asked Rukia quietly, “Introduce me to everyone? I only know princesses Nanao, Rangiku, and Orihime.”

The color returned to Rukia’s cheeks and she tapped lightly on the table. Immediately the soft chatter of the other women stopped. “I neglected to introduce our guest last night, sisters,” she said, and looked around. “This is Kurosaki Ichigo. He is a guard in the palace and a veteran of the border wars. Will you tell him _your_ names?”

One by one Rukia’s sisters did as she’d asked. Ichigo was actually terrible at remembering names and faces of anyone he didn’t know well; he’d gotten only a little better at it over the years – but he thought he’d at least _try_.

Then, suddenly, breakfast was over, and the princesses were getting up and leaving. All except for Rukia, whose hand stayed his own departure. “What do you know?” she asked, as Muguruma glanced curiously into the room and his eyebrows rose high.

“I’ll see you tonight, your Highness,” Ichigo said instead of answering. “I would offer to escort you somewhere – but I think I’m off duty for two more days.” That he said with a teasing grin, which only widened when Rukia huffed at him.

“I would rather not lose the guard who knows me best,” she said lightly. “Guards are so hard to break in.”

But Ichigo looked at her so intently that her cheeks flushed and he said, “I made a promise, your Highness.” Then he gestured toward the open doorway. “Perhaps you should follow your sisters?”

Rukia’s pupils were a little dilated as she looked at him, but she did as he suggested. When she had turned a corner and was out of sight, Muguruma clapped Ichigo on the shoulder. “So that’s how it is, you and the Crown Princess?” he asked.

Ichigo glanced at him. “You going to tell the Emperor?”

But Muguruma just shrugged. “Don’t see a need. Might even help you figure out what’s going on, if she wants you alive.”

“Hn. Yeah – that’s how it is. And I _will_ find out what’s happening to the princesses,” Ichigo told him.


	5. The Second Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo returns to the underground palace with the princesses, and discovers Aizen's plot.

Ichigo slept in the guest room that had been provided to him until early afternoon. He wanted to spend more time with Rukia, but didn’t want to look suspicious. So instead he allowed himself to be escorted down to another luxurious dinner and then to the princesses’ room. Once again, he refused the sake from Sui-Feng – and the chocolate that Yachiru offered him, just in case. And once again he laid down and pretended to sleep.

The second night went much as the first had. He chose yet another boat to board and ended up in the one with Orihime and her pale, dour partner.

“Prince Sosuke will be finished with his project soon,” the man said. “Will you stay here with me, even after your dancing is no longer needed?” Though his tone was flat and almost emotionless, there was a softness to his bright green eyes and Ichigo thought – _Oh_. _He’s in love with her._

Orihime giggled softly. “Can’t you come with _me_ , instead, Ulquiorra? I want you to see where _I_ live. There’s beautiful sunlight, and delicious sushi. And my father seems to have given up on the idea of any of my older sisters getting married, so I’m sure he’d be thrilled to meet you.”

“Prince Sosuke will make your sister his bride,” Ulquiorra said instead of answering her question directly. And Ichigo thought, _over my dead body_.

The dancing went as it had the night before, but this time Ichigo didn’t just stand and watch. He needed to find out what this _project_ was. He wandered the ballroom, listening in on the couples’ conversations; once again Rukia seemed repelled and so did Nanao and Sui-Feng. Occasionally a servant – silent and clad in a plain uniform of white fabric trimmed with strips of black – stepped into the room to replenish something from the banquet table or offer a goblet of wine during a dancing break. Ichigo slipped out of the ballroom behind one of the servants.

He hated taking his eyes off of Rukia, but he needed to know what was going on. So, Ichigo followed that servant from the kitchens behind the ballroom and found himself in a surprisingly plain-looking hallway. From outside the building this ‘Sosuke’s’ palace had looked huge – and so Ichigo was surprised by how utilitarian the space looked. Still, he knew he didn’t have much time, and so he hurried down the hallway on sock-clad feet. Invisible though the cloak apparently made him, Ichigo knew that doors that opened by themselves would likely gain attention, and so he listened at every doorway before he opened it.

It quickly became clear that Sosuke’s enormous palace was a false building of sorts. Though he found enough bedrooms for the twelve men who’d been dancing with the princesses each night, and a dining room with a table large enough for thirty people, the palace did not seem nearly so large outside of the ballroom. And there were few servants wandering the hallways (a fact for which Ichigo was grateful).

He followed a set of stairs downwards and found a few more rooms – and, finally, what he sought. A little surprised that there were no guards, Ichigo slid open a door into a tiny room. In the middle of the room sat a pedestal, and upon that pedestal sat a gleaming black orb. Blue sparks circled it and Ichigo could see little tendrils coming towards it.

One of them hit him instead, and it felt so much like _Rukia_ that his knees nearly buckled. _This_ was why the princesses were dancing. This thing, whatever it was, was pulling their energy into itself. The question was what the twelve men upstairs were going to do with it once the ‘project’ was complete.

Ichigo memorized the look of the thing as best he could and then hurried back upstairs into the ballroom. He was just in time: the dancing was winding down. Several of the princesses had given up on dancing entirely and were nibbling on fruits and other dainties from the banquet table. Rukia was one of them, and she looked so exhausted that Ichigo just wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her until she fell asleep. Instead, when she drifted toward a low couch at the end of the room he followed, and sat beside her when she draped herself over it. He didn’t dare touch her. When she looked in his direction he froze, barely even breathing until she looked away again, a puzzled look on her face.

It was a short respite: Sosuke sought her out before too long and held out his hand. “There is a little more time for dancing, Rukia,” he said in that smooth voice of his.

“Aa – I’m sorry, Prince Sosuke,” Rukia said in a voice pitched higher and sweeter than anything she’d ever used with Ichigo. It sounded _false_ to his ears, and he wondered if this man picked up on it. “My feet are so _very_ sore, and my slippers are almost worn through.” She lifted the hem of her plum-colored gown and showed off matching slippers. The soles were heavily scuffed and whatever held the slippers together was clearly failing: the leather of the soles was coming away from the fabric on both feet.

“But we must have one more dance,” Sosuke said, and grabbed for Rukia’s hand before she could stop him. “You _must_ dance with me, princess.”

The tone sent a chill down Ichigo’s spine and he watched helplessly as Sosuke practically dragged Rukia onto the dance floor. The musicians in the far corner began a new song. Now that he’d seen the orb below the ballroom, he could see the occasional flash of energy from one of the princesses. He needed to know what this Sosuke wanted with the princesses’ energy, and he quickly realized: he wasn’t just solving a mystery.

This was a rescue mission, even if none of the princesses were in physical chains.

Ichigo got back up and sought out the other dancers, particularly the men. The fox-faced man dancing with Rangiku was a good start, and he listened shamelessly as the couple whispered to one another behind silver goblets.

“Trust me a little longer, Ran,” he was saying when Ichigo got within earshot. “Aizen’s near his goal and he needs me. But once this project is complete, you and I…” His eyes opened fully for once and Ichigo could see that they were the palest blue, almost silver in the light of the ballroom. “I’ll come back with you and ask your father for your hand.”

Rangiku was _blushing_ and she leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I’d like that, Gin,” she whispered. She took another sip of her wine. “But what _is_ this project? Why does Prince Aizen need us to dance every night?”

“Aa, that’s a secret, Ran.” His eyes were back to their mostly-closed state, and Ichigo suppressed a sigh. Not that he expected it to be so easy to figure out.

But Rangiku did, apparently, and she leaned over and poked Gin in the cheek with one finger. “Tell me,” she whined. “I’ve ruined almost a hundred pairs of dancing slippers, and father’s never been so mad at me. Even the idea of marrying his daughter to a prince might not make him forgive me.” The words were clearly an exaggeration and this time Ichigo had to suppress a snort of amusement.

“Hn. Still a secret, Ran,” Gin grunted. “And it’s time for you go to back to your bed.” He whispered something in Rangiku’s ear that Ichigo didn’t quite catch, although what he did hear made the tips of his ears blush. He hurried away – this Gin was right. The musicians were silent and Sosuke was leading Rukia from the ballroom.

Ichigo grabbed a discarded goblet on the way back and tucked it beneath his cloak. He already had the jeweled twigs, but the more evidence he collected, the better. He sat in Tatsuki’s boat again for the trip back, and watched the scowling, _blue_ -haired prince pole them back to shore.

“Your feet hurting again?” he asked as Tatsuki put her feet up on the other bench, perilously close to Ichigo. His tone was gruff and though he looked annoyed, there was a hint of compassion in his voice.

“Hn. At least you didn’t step on them this time,” the princess said. She examined her ruined dancing slippers. “But these aren’t made for dancing all night. I don’t know why your older brother insisted we wear such flimsy shoes, Grimmjow.”

That was another clue, and so was the way this _Grimmjow_ scowled at her and said in a low voice, “He’s no brother of mine.”

“Then what is he?” _Thanks for asking that, Tatsuki_ , Ichigo thought.

“A man who wants power,” Grimmjow growled, and looked out over the water. Then he glanced down at Tatsuki again. “He’ll make your older sister his wife when he gets it.”

“Please. Rukia doesn’t even _like_ him. Why would she marry him?”

The other boats were beginning to reach the lakeshore, but Ichigo listened intently.

“Not sure she’ll have a choice,” Grimmjow commented. “Not when Aizen’s the emperor.”

And – _oh_. That changed Ichigo’s plans altogether. When Grimmjow’s boat docked and the other women were still disembarking, Ichigo listened to Aizen Sosuke and Rukia say their goodbyes. She was once again repelled by him, her hand snatched from his as soon as she could manage it and her body language stiff and uncomfortable.

“Tomorrow night, princess?” Sosuke asked and smiled at her with all of his teeth.

Rukia held her head in the air. “Sisters, we must get back to bed before dawn,” she called, and Ichigo hurried ahead of them. Once again he was lying on his futon before even Rukia’s feet were on the wooden floorboards. He waited impatiently while the women changed back into their nightclothes and settled back down for the night.

Then Ichigo stepped out from behind the screen and found Rukia’s futon. She was still awake, he could tell: her eyes were closed but her breathing was still uneven. “Rukia,” he whispered, and even in the near-total darkness of the bedroom, which had only a sliver of a window high on the far wall, he could see that her eyes flew open.

“Ichigo,” she whispered back, and sat up so quickly their foreheads collided. “Ow!”

The noise woke up the rest of the sisters, and Nanao lit one of the oil lamps quickly. “What’s going on? Rukia?”

Ichigo rubbed his forehead lightly. “Uh,” he said intelligently. But Rukia was looking at him, and so was everyone else. And he looked around at them all and said, “You might as well light the sconces.”

He took advantage of the distraction that caused to kiss Rukia’s forehead where his had bumped hers, and mumbled an apology against her skin. She mumbled one back, and their lips met in a chaste kiss even as the room steadily grew lighter while Nanao and Orihime lit up each of the sconces on the walls.

“Oh! _Rukia,_ ” Rangiku giggled when she saw them. Ichigo’s cheeks heated and so did Rukia’s, but he only shifted to sit on her futon with his knees drawn up towards his chest, one hand loosely holding hers.

When there was enough light in the bedroom to see by, Ichigo looked around. Every woman in the room looked exhausted, and Ururu and Yachiru looked as though they could barely keep their eyes open. “I know where you’re all going at night,” he said bluntly. “And I know this _Aizen_ has some kind of plan that involves him taking your father’s place as emperor.”

Rukia’s hand tightened around his while Rangiku and Orihime gasped. Tatsuki just raised an eyebrow at him. But it was Sui-Feng who spoke up and said, “And where did you hear that from? All Tousen told me is that he wants Rukia as a wife.”

He felt Rukia stiffen next to him and Ichigo squeezed her hand gently. “Grimmjow, Tatsuki’s dance partner, said it to her tonight. And both Gin and Ulquiorra have talked about some _project_ that requires each of you to dance. It’s stealing your energy to power something beneath Aizen’s palace.” Those words met with more gasps, but Ichigo barreled on, “So what I need to know is why none of you can tell your father, the emperor, that someone beneath his feet is plotting treason.”

“It’s a spell.” The words came from an unexpected source: Ururu, whose voice was so quiet that Ichigo strained to hear her. “Jinta, the boy I’m supposed to dance with, says Sosuke has real _magic_ , and he used it to cast a spell on my older sisters and some of the boys, too.”

Ichigo blinked at her. “Real magic,” he said flatly. When Ururu shrank back a little, Ichigo deliberately softened his expression and his voice. “Does Jinta know which of the men are under this spell? Do some of them not want to work for Sosuke?”

Ururu shrugged and continued in her soft voice, “Ulquiorra and Grimmjow are. Jinta doesn’t think Grimmjow likes Sosuke at _all_. Gin isn’t.”

“But Gin thinks he’s going to ask father for my hand in marriage,” Rangiku spoke up, and blushed when twelve heads swung to look at her. “He didn’t say that Aizen wants to be emperor!”

“Hn. Well, _I’m_ not under a spell, and you can clearly talk about it with me,” Ichigo pointed out.

“Maybe it’s because you’re supposed to be dead in two days,” Sui-Feng said bluntly. “Only you wouldn’t drink the drugged sake that I’m compelled to try and give you.”

Ichigo grunted under his breath. He didn’t like the reminder that, under a spell or not, the princesses were partially responsible for the deaths of over fifty men. He stood from Rukia’s futon, hand letting go of hers, and walked behind the screen that separated his futon from everyone else’s. There, he pulled his boots on and gathered up the jeweled twigs and the goblet. When he came back around the screen, they were all staring at him and Rukia was standing, hands clenched in her nightgown.

But Ichigo just walked to the door of the bedroom and pounded on it with his free hand, the sound echoing and reverberating through the room. When there was no response, he did it again, and finally the door unlocked.

“No one’s supposed to leave before daylight,” the young guard at the door whispered, body blocking Ichigo from leaving.

He rolled his eyes. “Go get Muguruma. Tell him it’s an emergency.”

The door shut and locked again, and when Ichigo turned Rukia was next to him. “What are you going to do?” she asked in a whisper.

“I’m going to tell your father that I know where you’re going, that his daughters have been put under a spell, and that there’s a man beneath his palace plotting treason.” _And then I’m going to stab Aizen in the heart for putting his hands on you,_ Ichigo thought.

Rukia’s weight fell against him suddenly, and Ichigo slid an arm around her. “You mean it’s going to be over soon?” she asked softly.

Ichigo kissed her forehead again. “If I have anything to say about it.”

The door opened again a few minutes later and Muguruma was there, along with Hisagi. “You know what’s happening,” Muguruma said, and there was a note of _wonder_ in his voice. “I’ve woken the emperor.”

Ichigo glanced back at the women. “We should _all_ go,” he said. If the women were still under some kind of spell, he thought, one of them might try to get back to warn the princes.

And that was how a procession of three guards and twelve women and girls in nightdresses ended up in the emperor’s throne room. The emperor wasn’t exactly dressed for company either: he wore a black robe over his nightclothes, but his beard was tangled and he blinked owlishly as his daughters trailed in behind Ichigo, Muguruma, and Hisagi.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, but there was a note of something _more_ in his voice. Ichigo thought it might be hope.

“Your Imperial Highness,” Ichigo said, and bowed. “I know where your daughters are going at night, and I know why their slippers are worn through every morning.”

As the emperor stared at him, Ichigo pulled from his pockets the three branches and the goblet. “There is a trap door beneath the floorboards of their bedroom. It leads down and away from your palace a short distance. I don’t know how it’s possible, but there is an underground cavern beneath your city, Sir.” He held up the three branches. “They go through a grove of trees made of silver, and then one of gold. The final grove is a tree dripping with gemstones.” At the emperor’s gesture, Ichigo stepped closer and placed the three twigs in his hands.

Emperor Yamamoto studied them for a long moment, fingers moving over them slowly. “I see. And what do they do there, Kurosaki?”

“They are met by twelve men and boys, the oldest of whom is a man named Aizen Sosuke,” Ichigo continued.

The Emperor straightened up and interrupted, “I banished that man from my sight two years ago. And you tell me he is under my city?”

Ichigo nodded slowly. “He and eleven others meet your daughters on the shore of an underground lake. They take the princesses across the lake to a building that looks like a palace from the outside. It has a ballroom, and your daughters dance with these men until their shoes are worn through. This is one of the goblets I took from the ballroom.” He offers the golden cup to Yamamoto, who takes it with shaking fingers.

“My daughters are dancing with an exile,” Yamamoto said slowly, and Ichigo shifted as though he could block the women from the emperor’s sight.

“They are spelled,” he said, “So that they couldn’t tell you, and couldn’t stop. I saw Aizen use some kind of – hypnotic magic on the crown princess. He must be using it on everyone. Princess Ururu’s partner told her that some of the men are bespelled as well.” Ichigo clenched his hands. “Aizen is using your daughters to power some kind of _orb_ , your Imperial Highness. I don’t know what it’s supposed to do – but tonight I heard one of the men saying that whatever Aizen is planning is so that he can usurp you as emperor.”

Yamamoto’s eyes widened and he looked between Ichigo and his daughters. “Very well, Kurosaki Ichigo. You have solved this mystery. I suppose you want to choose a bride from amongst my daughters. Orihime is the prettiest, I suppose you’ll want her.”

Ichigo blinked at him and glanced back toward Rukia and her sisters. Orihime looked _devastated_ at the idea, and he remembered the look in Ulquiorra’s eyes as well. “The crown princess Rukia is my choice, your Imperial Highness, if she will have me.” There were sighs behind him, Orihime’s one of relief, and Ichigo straightened up. “But I think the more important thing here is that only a trap door lies between a traitor and you, Sir.”

“Hn. Captain Muguruma, assemble a unit of guards,” Yamamoto ordered.

“You say there is a lake down there, Kurosaki?” Muguruma asked, and Ichigo nodded to him.

“I didn’t see a way around the lake to get to the palace on foot. But only the path through the trees is lit,” Ichigo explained. “And I’m sure the little boats these men use are back at the underground palace.”

Muguruma nodded and then bowed to the Emperor before striding off.

“Go and dress, before the rest of my guards see you in your nightgowns,” the Emperor ordered his daughters. “Rukia?”

As the other women filed out, following Hisagi, she stepped up next to Ichigo. “Yes, father,” she said, and bowed to him.

“Will you have this man as your husband?”

Ichigo didn’t dare take her hand in his. But then the pretty alto voice next to him said, “I will. Kurosaki Ichigo is an honorable man.”

Yamamoto hummed thoughtfully under his breath. “Good, then. Go and dress. And Kurosaki – you will accompany your fellow guardsmen.”

Ichigo bowed. “Of course, Sir.”

They waited until the door to the throne room was closed and they were alone in the hallway before they reached for one another. Rukia stood on her tiptoes in bare feet and Ichigo still had to lean down to reach her, but their lips met and clung for a long moment. Ichigo hauled her closer to him and held her tight against his body. “Let’s go. I really am going to stab this Aizen,” Ichigo said when they parted, and put his hand on his blade.

They were halfway back to the princesses’ room, hands entwined, when Rukia said, “I’m going with you,” and Ichigo blinked down at her.

“Like hell. I won’t have you in harm’s way,” he growled as they hurried through the palace halls.

“I can fight. And so can Rangiku and Tatsuki, and Sui-Feng and Nanao. We’re not helpless, Ichigo,” Rukia growled right back.

Ichigo sighed heavily. “I thought you just came down to the salle because you were bored,” he said. They were nearly to the doors, and Ichigo could see Hisagi standing outside.

“Well. There was that, too. And I liked looking at you,” Rukia admitted with flushed cheeks.

Ichigo could feel his own cheeks heat, and heedless of the fact that Hisagi could see him, he stopped Rukia and leaned down to kiss her again. “Fine. But let the guards lead,” he ordered.

Hisagi raised an eyebrow at him. “Muguruma wasn’t pulling my leg,” he said. Then he bowed to Rukia. “Your sisters are changing inside, your Highness.”

Rukia nodded to him and pushed open the door, slipping inside. Before Hisagi could stop him, Ichigo pushed inside as well and, at the sight of half-dressed women, clamped a hand over his eyes.

“Kurosaki! I didn’t think you were that kind of man,” Rangiku teased.

“I’m not,” Ichigo growled, and scowled when he heard Rukia’s laughter. “We’re about to attack the men who have been dancing with you for a year now. I don’t want you left without any kind of guard.”

There was more laughter, but a lot more rustling fabric. When Rukia told Ichigo that he could open his eyes, all twelve sisters were dressed, and their futons rolled away. Rukia, Rangiku, Nanao, Tatsuki, and Sui-Feng all wore clothing not entirely unlike what Ichigo was wearing: dark monpe and boots, and close-cut shirts. They each wore a leather dō that covered them from neck to knee, and there were sureate and tekko covering their legs and arms.

A knock at the door reverberated, and Ichigo pulled it open. Muguruma nodded to Ichigo and shoved a pile of armor into his hands. “Put that on,” he ordered. The sisters shuffled to the side of the room as a contingent of fifteen guards stepped inside, each wearing armor and swords strapped to their belts.

Rukia stepped forward and helped Ichigo put his armor on; for just a moment the world vanished around them, as she helped him buckle on his dō and placed the tekko on his arms herself. “There,” she said when she was done, and plainly ignored the way _everyone_ stared at her.

“Where’s the trap door?” Muguruma demanded finally, and Rukia gestured. She and Tatsuki made quick work of the wooden floorboards and threw open the door beneath. Muguruma went first and his guards followed, though some of them still seemed distracted by the princesses.

“You shouldn’t stay here,” Ichigo said to the other princesses, the ones not dressed for battle. “Especially you, Yachiru and Ururu. If anyone escapes back up the stairs you could be in danger.”

“I will lead my sisters somewhere safe,” Nemu said evenly. It was the first time Ichigo had heard her say more than two words, and he nodded to her briefly.

“Good.” Then he exchanged one more look with Rukia and pulled his cloak on. “I’ll be up at the front with Muguruma,” he said when he was invisible, and the women startled. He plunged down the trap door and called back up to them; the five women followed.

They weren’t so far behind the guardsmen, and Ichigo hurried to catch up. The men were distracted by the tree groves momentarily, but then they reached the lakeshore. True to Ichigo’s words, there were no boats along the shore. The palace was still lit up across the lake, and the dark water reflected its light. “There must be a path,” Muguruma said. One man, close to the lead, lit a torch and they walked along the lakeshore toward the palace.

The lake, it turned out, was quite large, and in the darkness the men moved slowly. But eventually the shore curved back toward the palace and they reached the building.

Aizen was waiting for them. Ichigo’s hand fell to Zangetsu, but Muguruma spoke first. “Aizen Sosuke. You are accused of high treason against the Emperor. By the order of the Emperor Yamamoto Genryusai you are to surrender any weapons and come with us peacefully,” he intoned.

“Oh, I do not think so, Captain Muguruma,” Aizen said, though he smiled. “You do not want to arrest me.”

Muguruma wavered, but then he grit his teeth and stepped forward. “You will surrender immediately, Aizen.”

The other men – other ‘princes’ were filtering out of the building. Gin still had that fox-grin on his face as he strolled up casually, as if he was out for a morning walk. He faltered, however, and Ichigo glanced back – Rangiku had pushed her way to the front and was staring at him pointedly. Rukia hung back with Tatsuki and Sui-Feng, who sneered as more of the so-called princes emerged.

“This is my domain, and you are trespassing upon it, Captain. I must ask you to leave.” Aizen smiled again, and held up the small, black ball in his hand. “My project is nearly done, and I need only the Crown Princess Rukia to make it complete. How fortuitous that you have brought her to me.”

Ichigo drew his sword as silently as he could, and watched. Rukia showed no signs of stepping forward, but Aizen did instead – and with a wave of his hand he pushed aside half the guards, clearing a path to Rukia. He drifted forward, smiling that smarmy smile again.

Until Ichigo’s sword blocked him. “If you touch her again I’ll stab you through the heart,” he growled, and pulled his hood back. The tip of Zangetsu cut through Aizen’s shirt and a single drop of blood ran down the blade.

“Interesting. A magic cloak? It must be you who broke my spell then,” Aizen said calmly. “But you’re late.”

Behind him, Ichigo heard Rukia draw her sword, and a blade of steel so pale it looked white appeared beside his. “He did,” Rukia said, “and as the Crown Princess of the Empire of Shinai, I order you once again to surrender. If you resist, I’ll kill you myself.”

Aizen just laughed, and backed up a step. “I have eleven other princes who would object to your order, princess.”

Ulquiorra stepped up beside him, clad not in his dancing finery but in good armor, and looked over the guards and princesses. “Nearly all trash,” he said with a sniff. “I will take care of them, Prince Sosuke.” He drew his sword.

“And what about Orihime?” Ichigo asked as the somber man stepped forward. He didn’t take his eyes – or his blade – from Aizen, but from the corner of his eye he could see Ulquiorra pause.

“I will defeat you and then retrieve the princess,” Ulquiorra decided. “You are a threat to Prince Sosuke.”

“Orihime won’t forgive you if you hurt her sisters,” Tatsuki called. Again, the man’s blade hesitated.

“Hesitating again?” That was Grimmjow’s voice, and he grinned savagely as he sauntered closer and drew _his_ sword. But his eyes lit on Tatsuki’s face and that grin turned into a scowl. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I can fight as well as I dance,” Tatsuki asserted. “Better, actually.”

“Ridiculous. If you won’t fight them, I will.” _That_ voice belonged to Nnoitra, and he drew his sword and swung it. Muguruma blocked him with a grunt and pushed him back with a shove of his blade.

The assault broke the stalemate, and Grimmjow jumped into the fray along with Ulquiorra, Ggio, Tesla, and Findorr.

Tatsuki sneered and shoved past Ichigo and Rukia to bring her blade up against Grimmjow’s when the latter brought low one of the guards. She matched him blow for blow, and he laughed. “You do fight better than you dance,” he agreed, and their swords clashed again.

Muguruma and the other guards brought down the three younger men – Ggio, Tesla, and Findorr – fairly quickly, disarming and leaving them bound on the stone steps. Ulquiorra and Nnoitra, though, fought savagely while Gin just watched.

The two redheaded boys – Jinta and the other one, Ichigo had never caught his name – tumbled out of the doors with Tousen and Coyote following. The last of those yawned and strolled forward, ignoring the fighting in favor of leaning against the building walls and watching.

Two more guards fell as Ichigo watched, blade still trained on Aizen. “Do you want them all killed?” he asked conversationally. “Do these men mean nothing to you?”

Aizen just smirked. “They are useful tools, much like princesses. And much like this.” He held up the black ball. “This will crush the Emperor and make the city mine.”

Rukia’s blade moved, then, and white steel bit into Aizen’s wrist. He grunted in pain and the ball dropped from his injured hand. When he dove for it, Ichigo was there, blocking him with _his_ blade while Rukia grabbed for the small thing. It shone in the palace light and she stared at Aizen as she held it. “You will not kill my father,” she ordered him. “And if you touch me again I’ll take that hand off.”

Around them the fight continued, though it wasn’t even close to an even match. Rangiku had the two redheaded boys by the backs of their shirts, and she glared at Gin when he approached her. “You promised me,” she told him, and there were tears in her eyes as she said the words.

But: “I keep my promises, Ran,” Gin told her, and glanced down at the two boys she’d grabbed. “Good, keep them out of it.” Then he swung around and dodged Tousen’s fight with Sui-Feng. The man was holding his own, clearly following the sound of the girl’s blade, and Gin didn’t interfere. Grimmjow and Tatsuki looked like they were sparring more than fighting.

Aizen’s hand found Ichigo’s blade and he shoved the shorter man back. “That’s just where I want you, princess,” he drawled, and finally he drew his sword. His free hand came up. Then he spun and blocked Gin’s blade as it swung toward him. “…Gin?” he asked dangerously.

“Couldn’t let ya make me break my promise to Ran and make her cry,” Gin said, and his lips curved in another vulpine smile.

“How quaint.” Aizen swung again, and the other fighters backed away as the two men fought. Ichigo shielded Rukia with his blade as they gave the two room.

And then Aizen stabbed Gin in the side. The silver-haired man fell and Aizen turned toward Ichigo and Rukia. His hand clenched, and the ball began to glow.

“Smash it,” Gin ordered weakly from the ground, and let out a wheeze and a grunt of pain as Aizen kicked him.

Rukia dropped the ball on the ground and brought her foot down as hard as she could. The ball shattered beneath the heel of her boot and energy burst from the shards, glittering blue and yellow in the darkness of the underground. She flew backwards with a scream, landing on the shore of the lake and lying still despite the shards of blue power that found her and flew into her body.

“ _Rukia!”_ Before Ichigo could run for her Aizen brought his blade up and tried to run him through. Ichigo barely dodged – but he’d fought a war and survived it, and he fought dirtier than Aizen did. They traded blows but Ichigo’s foot came out and kicked Aizen’s legs out from under him. When the man came back up Ichigo’s blade slashed across his chest, sending blood spilling down. He could see Gin struggling on the ground and grinned.

He just needed to keep Aizen’s attention on him. “Told you I’d stab you in the heart if you ever touched Rukia again,” he said, and parried another blow. “And you’ve already lost whatever the hell that little weapon of yours was,” he taunted.

Aizen lifted his blade for another blow – and then arched, all the breath leaving his body in a choked-off huff of pain as Gin’s blade burst through his chest. The blow sent blood spraying over the ground and onto Ichigo’s face.

“Told you I didn’t want you to make Ran cry,” Gin hissed, and pushed Aizen from his blade. Then he collapsed.

“Gin!” Rangiku’s scream echoed through the air. It stopped everyone, even Tatsuki and Grimmow, who looked at one another and got out of the way as Rangiku pelted down the steps and threw herself down beside him.

“Sorry, Ran…”

Ichigo tore his own shirt from his body. “Bind him with that,” he ordered Rangiku, and returned his attention to Aizen as she followed his directions. He turned Aizen over with one boot. _Dead. Good,_ he thought, and shoved Zangetsu into its sheath. “Guard the body,” he ordered the nearest guard, and threw himself at Rukia.

She was still breathing, and Ichigo felt for her pulse and then lightly tapped at her cheeks to wake her. “Rukia? Can you hear me?”

A soft groan came from her mouth and when Rukia’s eyes opened slowly, Ichigo clutched her so tightly to him that she squeaked. “Ichigo?” she whispered.

Though the sounds of clashing steel echoed behind them once more, Ichigo kissed her, hard, and pulled her even closer. Then the ground started to shake. “We have to go,” he yelled, and lifted Rukia into his arms. He grabbed her sword and shoved it into her sheath. “Everyone back to the palace, now!”

Muguruma ran by him carrying an injured guard over one shoulder and then other guards ran past as well, each dragging along one of the captured princes. Coyote followed, carrying the two redheaded boys, one under each arm. The false palace began to crumble and collapse, and the lake churned violently. The three musicians ran past Ichigo, one still carrying his violin, and a few servants followed.

Nnoitra and Tousen were dead – no loss there, Ichigo decided – but Ulquiorra was just standing over Aizen’s body even as Rangiku helped Gin up and half-dragged, half-carried him. “Get _out_ of here, back to the other shore,” Ichigo ordered, and the pale man stared at him but slung Aizen’s body over his shoulder and followed Rangiku. Tatsuki, Grimmjow, and Sui-Feng ran past as well. Satisfied that the living were on their way, Ichigo ran after them, bringing up the rear. They ran double time along the lake shore and through the groves of trees.

The very cavern itself began to collapse behind them and Ichigo shouted a warning as the lake overflowed its banks. He could see the water rushing up behind him. Ahead of him, the guards, princes, and princesses were running up the stairs. Ichigo put on a burst of speed and caught up to them, still carrying Rukia, who was tightly clutching his cloak. They were the last through the trap door even as the stairs crumbled beneath his feet, and Grimmjow was the one who threw the trap door shut.

Ichigo looked around. Gin was still leaning on Rangiku and the shirt binding his wound was stained with blood. Sui-Feng just looked satisfied. The wounded guard was lying unconscious on a hastily-unrolled futon. Light came in from the small window on the far wall; it was already past dawn.

And Captain Muguruma – well, he just shook his head. “We need a healer,” he said. “You – go, wake the palace healers and get two of them here as fast as you can. _Run_.”

Ichigo looked down at Rukia and she looked up at him. And then she said, “It’s really weird that you’re still mostly-invisible in that cloak. I feel like I’m being carried by a floating head.” He just laughed helplessly and kissed her.


	6. Healing and Making Amends

The healers arrived, and with them the Emperor himself, this time fully dressed in black robes and with his beard in much better condition. By that time Ichigo had set Rukia on another futon and Gin was lying on a third; the musicians, servants, and ‘princes’ from Aizen’s underground world were leaning against the wardrobes and walls. Aizen’s body was lying under a sheet.

“Kurosaki Ichigo,” Emperor Yamamoto’s voice intoned, and Ichigo scrambled to his feet to bow. “Who are all these people in my palace?”

“Ah,” Ichigo said, and looked around. “Your Imperial Highness. When Aizen died, the cavern in which he had created his false palace collapsed. These are the musicians and servants who worked there,” he said, and gestured at the uniformed men and women clustered along one wall.

“And these men, and one of the wounded you see here, are the surviving men who were the princesses’ dance partners.” Ichigo scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Gin, who was wounded, struck the killing blow against Aizen,” he added.

Yamamoto grumbled under his breath and looked over the room. “And tell me why I should not have these men who led my daughters astray executed?”

Coyote, who was resting against one wall with Jinta and Menis beside him, opened one eye and glared at the Emperor. Rangiku stepped in front of all three of them and pointed out, ““He called them _all_ princes. Surely they must come from somewhere, you can’t just execute another country’s royalty! And some of them are _children_.”

“And they were under Aizen’s spell too,” Tatsuki spoke up. She exchanged a look with Grimmjow. “Most of them. Tousen and Nnoitra weren’t, and they’re dead.”

The Emperor grumbled again under his breath. “Examine and then burn the traitor’s body,” he ordered one of the healers, who bowed low in response. “I will decide these…princes’ fates later. The musicians and servants are free to go.” There was more bowing as he left, and Ichigo fell back beside Rukia as the healers spread out among the injured. One, a young man with a somewhat hangdog expression, knelt by Rukia’s side.

“Are you injured, your Highness?” he asked. “Oh – I’m Yamada Hanatarō.” His voice held a note of nervousness as he spoke.

Rukia just smiled gently as she said, “Thank you, Hanatarō. I was thrown while we were underground, but I think I’m alright.”

Ichigo scowled as he sat back down next to her. “You were knocked unconscious, and something from that ball hit you when it broke. I’m worried you might have a concussion.”

Rukia scoffed, but her hand crept into his and she allowed Hanatarō to check her for anything more serious than bumps and bruises. The young healer’s hands glowed faintly as he assessed her and checked her eyes, the back of her head, and – with Ichigo shielding her from view as much as he could – her back.

“You’ll have a lot of bruising along your back by tomorrow, your Highness, and you’ve pulled several muscles, but you don’t have any signs of a concussion or more serious injury. What was it that hit her Highness?” he asked Ichigo.

“Hn. Some kind of blue light. The ball was collecting energy from the princesses. It’s what sent Rukia flying – she broke it and some kind of power backlash threw her through the air.”

Hanatarō pursed his lips and rested his hand lightly on the top of Rukia’s head, eyes drifting shut. Around them the servants from the underground palace chattered and the princes settled in to wait. The other healer was examining Gin while Rangiku sat by his side.

Eventually, Hanatarō opened his eyes again. “Well, as far as I can tell, nothing else is wrong with her Highness. It might have just been energy returning to her. Were any of the other princesses affected?”

“Hn. Not as far as I could tell,” Ichigo denied as he squeezed Rukia’s hand gently.

Hanatarō shook his head. “You should report anything out of the ordinary, Highness, but I think you’ll be fine after some rest.” He rose from his knees to join the other healer and treat the wounded guard.

Gin and the wounded guard’s cases were more severe, and after a few minutes of consultation the healers summoned servants with stretchers and, patients in tow, left for the palace infirmary. Rangiku hurried after them, heedless of the armor she still wore.

Muguruma sent his guards back to the barracks and a fresh group arrived a few minutes later, taking up posts around the room. “I think what we all need is some rest,” he began – and didn’t finish, because the sound of running feet echoed through the open door. He barely managed to get out of the way before the younger princesses ran in. Isane and Kiyone threw themselves at Tatsuki and Sui-Feng, while Yachiru and Ururu threw themselves down beside Rukia.

“Gently,” Ichigo ordered when they grabbed her. He looked up at Nemu gratefully when she bribed both girls into keeping their voices down with a piece of candy.

Orihime was last, and the room went quiet as Ulquiorra straightened up from his place against the wall. She flung herself at him, and his arms came up around her more slowly, as though he was shy of the audience around him. They didn’t kiss, but when the embrace ended their hands were clasped, and even Grimmjow smiled at them before he caught Ichigo looking at him and scowled.

A while later, servants arrived with tray upon tray of food. There was enough rice to feed a small army, and so many eggs that Yachiru wondered aloud if the chickens had any left. There was seared fish as well, pots and pots of tea, and enough bowls, mugs, and cutlery for a state dinner. The somewhat _unlikely_ companions sat down to eat and drink their fill – and there wasn’t even a grain of rice left when they had finished.

They were also yawning heavily despite the tea, and when Rukia dozed off against Ichigo’s shoulder he lifted her into his arms again. “I’m taking her someplace more comfortable to sleep,” he told Muguruma, and the older man shrugged.

“The room I showed you isn’t far. Call for a servant if you need anything for her.”

Ichigo just nodded and glanced backwards. “What about the princesses?”

“Hn. They’ll go back to their old rooms eventually, I’m sure. My guards will keep an eye on the princes until the Emperor decides what to do with them,” Muguruma said. “Go – get some sleep.”

Ichigo nodded and carried Rukia away. Fortunately, the well-appointed bedroom he’d been shown as his ‘guest’ quarters really weren’t far away, and he set Rukia gently on the bed before shutting the door. She roused herself as he pulled her boots off.

“Here, I’ll help you get your armor off,” Ichigo offered, and together they unbuckled the tekko and sureate. Rukia shimmied out of the leather dō and Ichigo set them aside. She was already asleep again by the time he got his own boots and armor off. There were clean shirts around his size in the wardrobe, and he pulled one of those on before curling up next to her on the bed.

In the space between waking and sleeping, as his arm slid around her waist and she sighed and tucked herself close to him, Ichigo decided that the past few days had been the strangest of his entire life. But – he had Rukia next to him, _safe,_ and they were engaged. Well, mostly engaged. He had to – Ichigo’s eyes slid shut and he slipped into sleep.

* * *

When Rukia woke she was curled up in Ichigo’s arms. She blinked and squinted against the late afternoon sunlight that streamed in through the window and turned in the other direction. Ichigo’s fluttered open and he smiled at her, pulling her closer.

“How are you feeling?” he mumbled.

“Like I was flung through the air and landed on my back,” Rukia admitted, and kissed the corner of his mouth. Ichigo turned his head and caught her lips, kissing her gently. “But less exhausted.”

“Good.” Then his eyes met hers. “Did – you mean it when you said you were willing to marry me? I don’t want you to say yes just because of—” Rukia’s lips covered his again, cutting off his words.

“Fool. We _fit_ ,” she said firmly, and relaxed when he pulled her closer once again.

“It does feel that way,” Ichigo agreed, and kissed her. “But I don’t even know your favorite color, or your favorite food, or mmph—”

Rukia nipped his lower lip when she drew back again. “We can have a long engagement, and I’ll tell you that I like purple, and that soft-boiled eggs are my favorite food, and that I liked the way you kissed me in the gardens, like you _needed_ me,” she murmured.

The words sent a bolt of heat through him and his arm tightened around her as he drew her closer, lips finding the pulse point beneath her jaw. “I like black and dark green,” he whispered against her skin. “And spicy foods, especially spiced fish.” Then he kissed his way down her neck, making her gasp. “And I’ll kiss you whenever you want, because I do _need_ you.”

But there was a loud knock at the door, and they drew apart, cheeks flushed. Ichigo stood to answer it while Rukia sat up and tried to brush the wrinkles from her shirt.

“Ah – Kurosaki Ichigo, sir. The Emperor has summoned you and the Crown Princess to the throne room,” a petite woman in a servant’s uniform said. She bowed low when Rukia appeared behind Ichigo. “Your Highness,” she murmured respectfully.

“Do we have time to freshen up and change?” Rukia asked.

“Ah – I was told that you should come right away,” the woman said.

Rukia grumbled and smoothed her hair. “Well. If it can’t be helped,” she muttered. The young servant bit her lip, and Rukia waved a hand. “Of course we will answer my father’s summons. Thank you.”

With the door left open, they put their boots back on. Ichigo scrubbed his fingers through his hair in an attempt to neaten it, but gave up when Rukia laughed at him. Together they walked to the throne room, and when Ichigo’s hand brushed against hers lightly she twined her fingers with his, offering him a shy smile as she did.

The throne room was crowded when they stepped through the double doors and bowed to Emperor Yamamoto. Rukia’s sisters were all there, and so were the princes – the three younger men were no longer trussed up, and Gin was in a wheeled chair, though he already looked healthier.

“I am told that these men are in fact from the countries surrounding ours,” Yamamoto announced. “And so I will provide an escort to any of you who wishes to return to your homeland.” He looked down at Gin. “Ichimaru Gin, I am told that it was you who struck the killing blow against the traitor Aizen. You may have a boon of your choosing.”

Gin looked up at Rangiku and struggled to stand. “Ah – your Imperial Highness,” he said, when he was on his feet, and his eyes opened fully so that the pale blue of them shone. “I ask for your daughter Princess Rangiku’s hand in marriage.”

Yamamoto’s eyes widened and then narrowed at him, and he swung his gaze to look at Rangiku. “Is this what you want, daughter?”

Rangiku’s hand found Gin’s as Rukia watched, and she smiled up at her father. “Yes, father. Very much.”

Yamamoto nodded briefly and gestured for Gin to sit back down. “Very well. If Rangiku is willing, then her hand in marriage you will have, with my blessing.” He turned his attention to the other princes. “And all of you?”

“We’d like to go home,” the youngest, Jinta, said. “My brother and I miss our parents.”

Yamamoto nodded sagely. “I am sure they miss you as well. You will sleep here tonight, and my men will provide you with an escort home in the morning.”

Tesra, Findorr, Coyote, and Ggio also expressed their wishes to go home – and their former dance partners did not seem sad to see them leave.

“Your Imperial Highness,” Ulquiorra said quietly. “With your permission, I would like to court your daughter, Princess Orihime.”

Yamamoto’s eyebrows raised, and he swung to look at Orihime, whose cheeks were flushed and eyes full of longing. “Hn,” he said. “Do you not wish to go home?”

“I will return home,” Ulquiorra admitted solemnly. “Home is a very small country to the east of the empire, and my people may have suffered in my absence. But I wish your permission to return and court the princess.”

“Hn. Yes, I see. Yes, you may court my fourth daughter,” Yamamoto agreed. The blue-haired Grimmjow was last, and he arched an eyebrow. “And you, Jaegerjaques?” he asked.

Grimmjow scrubbed a hand nervously through his hair and looked over at Tatsuki. “Ah. Princess Tatsuki and I seemed to be getting along, your Imperial Highness,” he said. “I’d like to court her, if she’ll have me. My principality isn’t a big one, but it’s part of your empire.”

When Tatsuki’s cheeks flushed pink, Yamamoto nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said. “You may court my Tatsuki. But she is a better swordswoman than she is a dancer.”

Grimmjow grinned. “I know,” he said.

And Rukia swore she saw her father _wink_. But he wasn’t quite done yet. “You may leave us,” he told the princes. “I must speak with my daughters.”

Grimmjow bowed briefly and the other princes followed, although Gin merely bowed his head. They filed from the throne room slowly, with Menis pushing Gin’s wheeled chair ahead of him. When the doors closed behind them, Yamamoto spoke again. “My daughters. The spell upon you is broken - but many men died because of that spell, and you must make amends for your role in their deaths.”

Rukia’s hand squeezed Ichigo’s tightly, and he gently squeezed back. “What would you have us do, father?” she asked. “Many of these men had no families – that’s why they agreed to do it.”

When Yamamoto was silent, Ichigo suggested, “There is the orphanage that my sister runs. Are there others like it around the city? Places that shelter people with nowhere else to go?”

Yamamoto hummed thoughtfully. “There are such places within the city,” he agreed.

“And – there are many veterans of the border war,” Ichigo added, voice growing stronger. “Not all of us came back whole. Some must need help.” Rukia squeezed his hand again.

“You are correct, Kurosaki Ichigo. Very well.” The Emperor looked upon his daughters. “Each of you must find one of these places and spend the next year giving of yourselves. _You_ must do the work, together or alone, to atone for the cost of your dancing.”

Ichigo cleared his throat, and the Emperor raised an eyebrow at him. “Your Imperial Highness,” he said slowly. “Your orders had a role in this as well.” Yamamoto glowered at him as he said the words, but Ichigo stood his ground, eyes meeting the Emperor’s.

“And what would you have _me_ do, Kurosaki? And do not forget that you are not _yet_ married to my eldest daughter,” the older man rumbled.

Ichigo bowed his head in acknowledgement before speaking again. “I was a soldier in your army for over a decade, Sir. I was proud to serve you, and to serve the Empire. But – I don’t know what orders your generals gave, but along the border the wounded men from my company were sent west with no support. I was dismissed as battle-shocked and left to walk here from the border, alone. Will you offer your support to the men who come home with no prospects and no way to make a living?”

Yamamoto stared at him for a long time, before he nodded slowly. “Yes, I think that is a worthy use of my time,” he agreed. “Your care for your fellow soldiers is admirable.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Ichigo said.

Yamamoto looked at his daughters again, then, and nodded shortly. “I expect reports every month on your work. And with the _dancing_ resolved, you may all return to your own rooms. I will have your belongings brought back.”

When they were dismissed from the throne room, Ichigo smiled down at Rukia and asked, “Would you like to meet Karin and _my_ father?”

A warm feeling filled Rukia as she said, “Yes, I’d like that very much, Ichigo. And I suppose you’ll be able to show your father that you’ve found a wife after all.”

Ichigo looked up toward the ceiling. “Don’t encourage him,” he pleaded, and Rukia just laughed. They returned to the guest bedroom and slept again, missing dinner and staying dead to the world until the sun once again rose in the sky.

Breakfast with eleven princesses and nine princes was an even more interesting experience than dining with just her sisters. The tables were twice as crowded and twice as noisy. Gin was already walking around on his own, and he and Rangiku sat so close together that there was no space between them. Tatsuki and Grimmjow teased one another over cups of tea, and Orihime and Ulquiorra – well, Rukia hoped that Ulquiorra returned soon so that Orihime wouldn’t look so very lovesick.

Not that she and Ichigo were any better than Gin and Rangiku. Ichigo’s leg hooked around hers beneath the table and he piled food into her bowl. “Even your dressmaker said you weren’t eating enough,” he protested when Rukia tried to turn down a second egg. “You’re already so small, little princess. I don’t want you disappearing on me.”

Rukia just scoffed, but she ate the second egg.

After breakfast, the princesses gathered at the palace gates to wave away the princes and former dance partners who had elected to go home.

“Oh, please return soon, Ulquiorra,” Orihime said as her arms wrapped around him tightly. “I’ll miss you every day that you’re gone! I’ll send letters and—” Ulquiorra kissed her and Orihime clung to him while the other princesses looked away to give them some modicum of privacy.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can be assured that my home is in order,” Ulquiorra said solemnly. “I will read every letter you send me.” He kissed her forehead lightly. “And I will write some of my own.” Then he stepped into the carriage that would take him away, and a groom closed the door.

Grimmjow just looked at Tatsuki and said, “Don’t let your sword get rusty while I’m gone.” But then he stole a kiss from her just before he ducked to climb into the carriage that would take him back to _his_ home, leaving the ninth daughter of Emperor Yamamoto blushing hotly.

When the spectacle of departing princes was done, Ichigo led Rukia along the familiar path of their past walks into the city proper – but this time they turned west and walked along the stone-walled canal that cut through the city. Boats laden with trade goods and produce for market floated alongside little gondolas that provided transportation along the full length of the canal.

The houses along the canal grew more colorful and quainter as they walked, but finally they arrived at the little blue house that was the Kurosaki home. Ichigo rapped on the door using the knocker and then stood back, partially shielding Rukia from view.

“Ichigo?” she asked. But then the door opened, and a booted foot flew out, attached to the leg of a dark-haired man.

Ichigo blocked the blow and sent his father tumbling off to the side of the house. “Assaulting a palace guard is a criminal offense, old man,” he drawled as Kurosaki Isshin groaned and slowly got to his feet.

“You mustn’t lose your edge, my son,” Isshin proclaimed, as Ichigo rolled his eyes. And then he caught sight of Rukia, standing just behind and to the side of Ichigo with a coronet on her head and a plum-colored kimono covering her form. “Who is this beautiful woman? Have you brought home a bride at last?!”

Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck nervously, but he wrapped his hand around Rukia’s. “We should go inside.”

“Yes! Yes, come inside, Ichigo’s bride!” Isshin shouted, and ran back into the house.

Beside Ichigo, Rukia laughed softly. “He’s certainly enthusiastic,” she admitted, and stepped over the threshold into the modest but lovingly appointed home.

Ichigo shut the door behind them and pulled his boots off. “That’s a charitable way of putting it,” he grumbled under his breath, but then let Rukia use his shoulder as a balance as she pulled her own shoes from her feet. They were good, sturdy walking shoes – nothing like the dainty slippers she’d been wearing for months.

“Come, sit, and tell me when I will be getting grandchildren!” Isshin ordered. He ushered them toward low, cushioned chairs around a polished wooden table. “Karin, Yuzu!” he called.

Soft footsteps padded down the stairs and Yuzu, wearing bright green suikan and monpe, the pants hiked up to expose her calves, beamed when she saw them, and then blushed as she looked down at herself. Hurriedly, she dragged the legs of her monpe back down so that they covered her ankles. “Rukia! What are you doing here?” she called and hurried over. The two women embraced, and then Yuzu looked at her father disapprovingly. “Have you even offered them tea? No, sit, _I’ll_ make it,” she admonished him before vanishing into the kitchen.

Karin was slower to arrive, and she wore charcoal-hued garb cut even more modestly than her sister’s. Rukia looked up at Ichigo, who ducked his head at the sight of his younger sister, and her hand squeezed his under the table. But Karin just sat down at the table and smirked at Ichigo. “Finally listened to goat-chin and brought home a bride?” she asked.

Before Ichigo could answer, Yuzu returned with an enormous pot of tea and five cups. “It’s your favorite, Ichi,” she said as she sat down and poured for everyone. Steam rose from each of the cups, which were painted delicately with blue and white flowers.

“Now, introduce us to your bride, Ichigo,” Isshin demanded when Rukia had taken her first sip of tea.

The expression in Ichigo’s eyes softened and he smiled down at Rukia. He waited until Isshin had swallowed his tea before saying, “I’d like to introduce you to the Crown Princess Rukia, the oldest daughter of Emperor Yamamoto.”

The cup dropped from Karin’s hands. “The _what_?” she demanded, as the cup clattered to the surface of the table and hot tea spattered everywhere. She hurriedly mopped it up with a cloth napkin as she stared at her brother.

Yuzu just beamed and reached over to squeeze Rukia’s free hand.

“You solved the Emperor’s mystery,” Isshin said solemnly as he looked between Ichigo and Rukia. “Didn’t you?”

“I did,” Ichigo agreed, and smiled down at Rukia. “It’s kind of a strange story, and it involves an old woman who gave me a special cloak.”

Ichigo’s family listened with rapt attention as he and Rukia told them about the underground world and the twelve princes. It was a long story, given that Rukia’s role in the tale had started long before Ichigo’s, and free of interruption except for a moment when Yuzu got up to make more tea, the first pot having run dry quite some time ago.

And if they noticed when Rukia’s hand slipped into Ichigo’s or that sometimes he squeezed hers – to comfort or take comfort – neither his sisters nor his father said anything.

“My sisters and I will be spending the next year making amends for our role in all of this,” Rukia finished quietly. “I thought – perhaps we can talk about the orphanage and what you need, Yuzu.”

Yuzu nodded briefly. “Of course, Rukia! We’ve been shorthanded for months now, and I could _really_ use extra hands.” She glanced at Ichigo. “Will you be helping too, Ichi?”

“Ah, Ichigo doesn’t have anything to make amends _for_ ,” Rukia started, but his hand squeezed hers again and she looked up, eyebrow arched in question.

“I’ll be accompanying Rukia whenever she comes to see you.” At Rukia’s look, Ichigo shrugged and asked, “What? I’m sure Renji will assign guards to each of you. I’ll be yours, and there’s no reason I should just stand around for hours.”

“That’s true. His scowling face would scare the kids if he was just standing around and keeping an eye on her highness,” Karin pointed out, and just grinned at him when Ichigo turned his scowl on her.

“Just _Rukia_ , please,” the woman in question said. “We’ll be family, after all.” And that earned her another beaming grin from Yuzu and a kiss to the temple from Ichigo.

“And when will you actually get _married?_ ” Isshin demanded. “I’m only getting older, I want grandchildren while I’m still young enough to enjoy them!”

Ichigo scoffed. “We’ve only been engaged for a few hours,” he pointed out. “And you’re only fifty-two, goat-chin, you’re not exactly _old_.”

“We’ve agreed to a long engagement,” Rukia explained, “since our time together hasn’t exactly been…ordinary so far. It will be nice to spend time with your son when I am not spelled and forced to keep secrets from him.”

The words worked a magic of their own on Isshin and Yuzu both: their eyes grew almost comically wide and Isshin nodded firmly. “Of course you must! And a royal wedding will take a long time to plan, especially one for the Emperor’s eldest daughter!” Isshin exclaimed. “I was just a boy when his Imperial Highness wed for the first time. There was a state holiday, and hundreds of thousands of people lined the streets to watch the Emperor and his bride walk to the temple to marry. There were parties for _days_ in celebration of the marriage, and the Emperor and Empress made an appearance at dozens of them.”

Ichigo swallowed heavily and leaned closer to Rukia. “Your father would kill me if I tried to convince you to elope, wouldn’t he?” he asked quietly.

Rukia leaned her shoulder against his. “Well,” she said. “I _am_ his eldest daughter. Tatsuki could probably get away with it, but I think we’re stuck.”

He just sighed and brushed his lips against her temple again while his family watched. “It was worth asking.”


	7. Epilogue

There was a certain amount of resentment among the people when Emperor Yamamoto sent his messengers throughout the empire to share the news that his daughters were no longer bespelled, but a pledge from the Emperor himself that he would not only give his _personal_ support to returning veterans of the border war, but send new envoys to try and negotiate a peace with the enemies they fought, quieted the worst of it. The sudden appearance of twelve princesses, wearing plain working clothes, in places of charity across the capital city was met with initial skepticism, particularly given the presence of uniformed guards. After all – what could royal girls know about anything?

At Yuzu’s orphanage, Rukia was met with a much warmer welcome: she and Ichigo spent time there three days each week to support his sister’s efforts. Yachiru and Ururu frequently joined them, and they entertained the younger children while Rukia tutored the older ones. Ichigo’s role was often one of manual labor, carting in firewood or even helping Yuzu with the piles and piles of laundry that twenty young children generated. Over time that laundry grew rather nicer, as “donations from the palace” replaced old linens and Rukia’s pocket money bought clothing and other necessities.

But in the afternoons, he led training sessions for every child old enough to listen, showing them basic footwork and how to defend against an attacker. It was street fighting, nothing he’d teach at the palace.

“Are you teaching them to be soldiers?” Rukia asked one afternoon when he sent the children back to playing. Ichigo accepted the wooden cup of cold water that Rukia held out and stole a kiss from her as he did it.

“No. I hope your father really will end the border war. But they should know how to defend themselves,” Ichigo explained before taking a long drink of water. “Their lives are going to be…rougher than yours. Rougher than mine, in some ways. I’ve always had a family.”

Rukia pursed her lips and leaned in closer, stealing a kiss for herself as she did so. “What if they didn’t have to be?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…has Yuzu ever tried adoption? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a child leave this orphanage unless they’ve turned seventeen and gotten work,” Rukia pointed out.

Ichigo shrugged. “You’d know better than me. I was gone before she started working here.” The words created shadows in his eyes before Rukia tucked herself up against him and chased them away. He leaned down and dropped a kiss on top of her head.

“I’ll talk to Yuzu about it,” she decided. “And Nanao. Nanao’s been working with the city records system, maybe some of the children have living family that Yuzu doesn’t know about.”

He hummed his agreement and tightened his arm around her shoulders. “That sounds good,” he agreed. “We should get back to the palace,” he said then, and drank the last of his water. “We’re supposed to meet with that wedding planner, aren’t we?”

Rukia laughed at the scowl on his face. “It’s not that bad,” she teased. “They really just want us to sign off on their choices.”

“Hn. Last time we watched him argue with his assistants for three hours over the _type_ of white roses that would be going in the flower arrangements outside the temple,” Ichigo pointed out with a little grumble. But then he steered her back inside and dropped off the wooden cup before they walked back to the palace arm in arm.

* * *

Ichigo and Rukia’s wedding took place a year after their official engagement, in the largest temple in the city. Though it was a much _larger_ wedding than either of them really wanted, the wedding of a crown princess was nothing to be modest about. Hundreds of thousands of people lined the streets during their procession into the temple, and a thousand guests gathered within the temple walls, creating a rainbow of color in their finery. Every country in the empire sent a representative, and so did the surrounding nations – even Necuria, with which a treaty had been reached after a decade of war. Prince Ulquiorra of Schiffer and Prince Grimmjow Jaegerjaques were there – Rukia swore Orihime snuck at least three kisses from her suitor before the wedding even began. Rangiku stood next to Gin, as happy as Rukia had ever seen her, and her sisters and his all held pride of place in the temple.

Ichigo thought that Rukia had never looked more beautiful: The white gown she wore seemed woven with the very stars, for it was shot through with threads of silver and crystal beads sparkled in the folds of silk fabric. Her coronet sparkled on her head and so did the jeweled combs that held her hair in an elaborate arrangement of loops and silk-smooth locks. And the palace tailors hadn’t left him out: Ichigo was resplendent in his own way, wearing black robes embroidered with golden thread that were so heavy he was surprised he could still walk.

After the wedding, the celebrations went on for nine days and nights, and they lost track of the number of pretty gowns and elaborate robes they changed into. The noble clans, eager to curry favor once more with an Emperor who had shut everyone out while his daughters were dancing beneath the city, hosted party after party. Even the public joined in, and Rukia and Ichigo made appearances at three different celebrations in the capital. The marriage of a crown princess to a veteran soldier, it turned out, was _excellent_ public relations.

“It’s almost like being back in the palace underground,” Rukia whispered to him five nights into the celebrations. It was nearly midnight and Rukia’s maids had just finished helping her out of a dusky rose confection so elaborate that it had taken three women to help her put it on.

Ichigo, thankfully, had it easier: the maroon robes he wore were much easier to deal with, and he’d waited patiently in their bedroom while Rukia had struggled in her dressing room to get out of the many layers of fabric. “We can try and beg off tomorrow night if it’s too much,” he suggested quietly as they lay side by side on the featherbed.

“We’ll offend Lord Ukitake,” Rukia sighed. “And _no_ , we can’t send Orihime and Prince Ulquiorra in our places.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Ichigo protested, and turned on his side to look at her. “You know,” he said, “I think this is the first time we’ve actually been _alone_ together before dawn since we said our vows.”

Rukia flushed pink as her eyes met his. “It is,” she agreed as Ichigo draped an arm over her waist.

“I’ve gotten teased that we haven’t been able to spend any _time_ together,” Ichigo continued, and carefully tugged her closer to him.

“Rangiku is being insufferable about it,” Rukia agreed. “Though she offered to distract our guests tonight so that we could make our escape.”

Ichigo laughed quietly and then leaned in to kiss her thoroughly, arm keeping her pressed close to him until they were both breathing unevenly and flushed pink. “Why didn’t you agree?” he asked, and kissed his way down her neck, to her collarbone.

“Knowing – ah – knowing Rangiku, she would have done something borderline scandalous,” Rukia explained, gasping when he nipped at her skin. “My gown tomorrow is lower cut than that, if you leave marks we’ll scandalize everyone.”

The words drew another laugh, softer this time, but Ichigo brushed his lips over the spot gently. “How low cut is it?” he asked.

Rukia lifted a hand up and pressed one fingertip against her skin so that she could trace a wide, square shape on her chest. “The neckline looks like this.”

“I’ll be sure to stay below that line, then,” Ichigo murmured, and his lips drifted lower so that he had to pull her sleeping yukata open to keep kissing her. Then he looked back up at her, lips hovering just over her skin, and asked, “do you want me, Rukia?”

Rukia’s cheeks heated again and she shivered in his arms. “Yes,” she whispered.

Ichigo’s lips touched her skin, lightly. “We don’t have to go further than you want,” he promised as he kissed his way along her skin, following the line of her yukata.

Her fingers drifted through his bright hair, which had only gotten longer since they’d met. It was nearly to his shoulders. “I want _everything_ ,” Rukia told him, and gasped again when his mouth found the modest curve of her breast.

Ichigo lifted his head and looked at her, eyes amber in the low light from an oil lamp across the room. “Well, then,” he whispered, and kissed his way down her stomach, pushing her pale yukata out of the way as he went. “Let me give you everything.”

Despite the late hour, Ichigo moved slowly, lips, tongue, and fingers finding the soft places that made her gasp and grab for him, the ones that made her arch up and moan high and sweet into the darkness of their bedroom until she fell apart beneath him. When Rukia reached for him in turn it was her name that he cried out, head thrown back in shock – and pleasure – at her eagerness.

It took everything in him to stop her and slide inside of her instead, soothing her gasp of discomfort and distracting her with kisses until the tension left her and they could move together, with his hand between them to drive her higher. He came apart first, her name a prayer on his lips, but his fingers didn’t stop until she followed a moment later, keening her pleasure into his mouth and drawing another shiver from him.

They clung together into the night and slept far into the morning. They didn’t even notice when a pair of servants poked their heads into the room and stifled giggles and heated cheeks over the sight of them twined together, her yukata and his flung to the floor. “Let them sleep a little longer,” one whispered to the other, and the door closed without a sound.

Finally, though, Rukia stirred and Ichigo woke with her. They looked at one another in the late morning light, and Ichigo’s smile was tender as he leaned in to kiss her. “I love you,” he said quietly, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I love you too,” she told him, and beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Did you know that IIHWE - International IchiRuki Hentai Weekend - is coming up on December 11? If you'd like to participate, or view fics once they are posted, the collection is [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/InternationalIchirukiHentaiDay)


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